The Salvation of Beauty
by SouthernBelle06
Summary: The legends of King Arhur were greatly flawed. For they forget a woman, whose bravery saved the knights, whose spirit created peace, and whose love affair with one knight inspired legends. A story about a scout and a lady.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 Eternal Damnation

The sun shone down upon the lush fields of grass with such brightness, it gave each singular blade a green glow so that it appeared more as the waves of a deep and vast ocean rather than a valley. Morning dew dripped down back into the earth, and tiny white flowers that looked like white gulls on the sea, gently blew in the wind. And as he stared across the valley that stretch farther than the eyes could see, no thoughts ran through the placid mind of the boy who sat mounted upon his fathers gray mare. Thirteen years of such serenity and peace, had given him a sort of tranquil, yet lonely disposition. For he truly had no one, save perhaps his father and mother, who shared his view of the world around him. His eyes were different from any other in his tribe; he saw the earth and the sky the way many others merely longed to. The boy did not know exactly why he was different, why he felt so different from all the rest of the world, but he did wish with all his heart that he would someday find true companionship and complete understanding. The boy let out a heavy sigh and hung his head. Just then, a swift breeze blew long strands of messy hair into his dark eyes, causing him to look up once more. The wind blew to the west, in the direction of his village. At first, the boy thought nothing of the sudden gush of wind as he turned his mare back towards his home, but he paused as a feeling started to wash over him. All morning, the wind had been blowing steadily to the east, but now it was going strongly to the west. Something was wrong.

"Hiyah!"

The boy gently, but firmly nudged the mare, and in a flash the two were racing back towards the village. Over hills and through tiny streams, the boy drew closer and closer. Fear and anxiety gripped at his heart. His hands began to tremble as they clutched the reins, and he began to fear that he might loose his bearings and fall. But his mare was strong and trustworthy, sensing it's tiny masters fear. It kept it's fast pace, but maneuvered swiftly through field. 

His village came slowly into view as he neared the top of a small hill. It was what he saw that day in the town square, as he ominously slowed his mare to a trot at the very top of the hill, that haunted the youth for many years later into his manhood. A vision that plagued his dreams and eventually cooled his once warm, childish heart.

Below in the square, five horsemen sat upon there steeds surveying the village and all those who dwelled there. Their armor reflected the suns rays with a mock gallantry, and the red plumes that stuck out of their helmets seemed to demand respect and honor. The boy knew instantly who they were, even though he had never before seen their likeness. Romans.

The boys heart sunk even lower when he noticed that there were others on horseback, that were obviously not Roman, with heads hung down low and anxiety and sadness in their young eyes. They were other boys, from all different tribes, but they were his clansmen none the less. Sarmatian boys ripped from their families and lives to serve a cause not of the own for the next fifteen years. He would join them too, he realized. He would suffer now as his father had so many years past.

"You there! Boy!" cried a Roman who had turned around and spotted the boy as he slowly entered the village limits. "Come here boy! You look of age." 

The man looked the boy up and down as he drew his mare close up to the crowd of villagers. The trembling in his hands had stopped, upon the will of their owner, and the boy glared at the man emotionlessly. He would not show fear, nor anything at all. There was no way he would give a Roman the satisfaction. They had taken so much already, and he would not let them conquer his soul as they would his body. For he was now a slave of Rome.

"Get your stuff, we leave as soon as the rest are packed," the same Roman grunted from high atop his horse.

It was then that a village elder and midwife, Rhianna, stepped forward from among the crowd. "You cannot take him. He is but an orphan and belongs to the people of the tribe. We need some protection when all the rest have grown old."

"Listen, woman. We take whom we deem fit," the Roman barked down at her with annoyance in his eyes. "He is coming."

Rhianna's eyes filled with unshed tears. This was a battle she knew she couldn't win. She gave in, and walked over to the boy as he dismounted his mare. "Come, my son."

The two walked slowly towards the boy's lonely tent. The tent he had shared with his mother and father when they still were alive. He lived there alone now. 

Rhianna helped the boy pack up his meager belongings in silence. She wondered whether she would see the youth ever again. In her mind she prayed to the gods that death would find her before it would him. Rhianna had grown to love him, even though they hadn't shared but a couple of moments together. After his parents death, he dwelled alone in solitude. She was attracted to him not only out of pity, but also by the fact that she sensed that he was more in touch with nature, just as she had been when she was his age. He was indeed destined for a greater life and deeds that would last forever.

Just as they were about to leave his tent, Rhianna placed her hand on the boys shoulder asking for his attention. He turned and looked into her eyes as she knelt down to him.

"Now begins your life as a man. You will see many great things with those eyes of yours, and you will lead a life that no man before has ever lived. You will take many lives, and live many years alone. But, you will find salvation in the turmoil. One day, you will find the peace that was taken from you when you're parents died."

For the last time until many years later, the boy wept. He buried his head in Rhianna's shoulder and wept for his parents, for his people, for his enslavement, and for the lonely life he faced. Rhianna stroked the boys dark, unruly hair as he cried. And when his tears had dried all up, the boy pulled away from the old woman's embrace. He wiped his eyes, stood straight, and allowed his emotionless mask slip back onto his face. 

"Take the spirit of this land, your land, with you always."

The boy only nodded and then turned out of the tent. He walked strongly up to the mounted troupe, and climbed up onto his father's mare once more. The Roman from before stared at the young Sarmatian for a moment, as a disgusting smirk reached across his less than noble face, before he turned and directed the group to start.

The boy remember kept his promise to his father that day, as he rode silently among the nervous group of his clansmen.

"When they take you, my son, and they will come, promise me this. That when you ride off into the distance, don't glance backwards. Only forward. Your path is always forward, my son. Promise me, Tristan. Promise me."

"I promise, father." 


	2. Keeper of a King's Heart

First of all, I'd like to say that I'm so excited about my first fan fiction! I loved King Arthur, but it took me a long time to get enough courage to actually share some of the stories that have evolved in my mind after seeing this movie. So, please review and tell me what you think, but please do go easy.

Secondly, Thanks to Sea Cucumber for my first Review! Yes we'll see the lady very soon! I take it you're as crazy about a certain scout as much as I am.

Okay, this next chapter has a slight reference to a theme used in the Phantom of the Opera. The Angel part was borrowed as just a fairy tale for a little girl. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 2

The Keeper of a King's Heart

"Artorius!"

Arthur looked up from his spot on the ground near his father's grave to see his mother waving up at him from below. She had a basket of wash in her hand and was headed down to the stream with the other Ladies of the Wall. Arthur beamed down at his mother.

"Yes mother?"

"Elaine's gone missing, have you seen her? Is she with you?"

Arthur's young heart froze when his mother's words hit his ears. Where was Elaine? The group that his mother, himself, and the precocious little sprite of a girl had come from the fortress with had come down to the very edge of the forest. Arthur began to panic. There were Woads in the woods, and the blue demons surely would pray on the innocent soul of the little girl.

It was then that Arthur saw a flash of pink in the corner of his eye, and heard the faint sound of a stifled giggle. He gave a sideways glance towards the great tree that stood proudly to his right , just barely catching a glimpse of the train of a pink dress dash behind the trunk. He looked down upon his mother once more, who reassured him with a tiny wink and a smile. This was another one of Elaine's mischievous games.

"I have not seen, nor heard of Elaine all morning mother," Arthur said as he stood and strolled towards the tree. It seemed that tree in return gave forth another muffled giggle.

"Perhaps she has finally join the fairies of the forest. Those tiny creatures she desperately searches for everyda..."

Arthur quickly reached out from behind the tree and grabbed the young girl's arm. She let out a happy squeal as the young boy pulled her into his arms, mercilessly tickling her tiny form.

"No, Arthur!" the little girl yelped between fits of giggles. "Not...f-f-fair!"

"Nothing is fair in war, milady!"

Arthur and Elaine toppled onto the lush, green grass, rolling around in a gentle wrestle. Soon, Arthur got the better of the child, gently pinning her down near the burial mound of his father.

"Do you surrender, or shall you face the worst of my wrath?" Arthur questioned the girl below him, with a mock evil tone.

The girl mirrored the boy's expression, defiantly glaring up at the curly haired youth. "Never!"

"So be it!"

And with such force, the young boy started planting sweet, but frantic kisses atop her tiny brow. The girl giggled uncontrollably, flaying about in his arms, her raven black locks creating an aura around her oval face.

"Please Arthur. I...I can't breathe."

The boy let out a soft chuckle as he released her from his grasp. He sat back on his hind legs and smiled down upon his sister. She had only seen six summers, and yet she possessed more spirit than any being he had ever encountered in his eleven. Sometimes, he wondered how they were even siblings at all. He was so often reserved and thoughtful, while she ran about with such curiosity and sweetness, that she easily enchanted anyone the moment they first laid eyes on her. Arthur found it difficult to trust new people, and yet Elaine gave her trust so freely. This, he feared, would someday lead her to trouble. That is why he kept such a close eye on her. No harm would ever come to her, or his mother. He had made that vow to his dying father, many years past, and he intended on keeping that vow forever. 

"Arthur?" Elaine said to her older brother, with a laugh in her voice. "Arthur, you're daydreaming agaiiinnnnn!"

He didn't have even a second to turn back to his sister before she pounced like a kitten on top of his back. She often caught him off guard this way, when he was lost in a world of thought. 

"The tables have turned, my lord!"

Elaine deftly pushed her much stronger brother to the ground once more, and with surprising agility, leapt over his fallen form, racing the short distance towards her father's grave. This was her sanctuary. Once there, she threw herself upon the mound, and carefully clutched the hilt of Excalibur, her father's war sword, that lay implanted as a head stone. 

"Father will protect me from your wrath, Arthur!"

At her words, a small frown formed on his soft, adolescent face. A sigh escaped from him, as he lifted himself off the ground, and made his way over to his sister, and his father. Once he was standing above her, Elaine noticed Arthur's fallen countenance, and immediately released Excalibur from her grasp. She knew that when she spoke to her father in that way around her brother, a great sadness filed his heart. And for this, she silently chided herself for such foolish behavior. She would never hurt her brother. She would die first.

"Oh, Arthur, forgive me."

Arthur stared down at her with a sad face for a small time, before a smile, that didn't quite meet his eyes, emerged. 

"There is nothing to forgive, Elaine." Arthur sighed once more as he sat with her down below the mound. He soothingly took her hands in his. Elaine stared up at her brother with gentle eyes, as he stroked her hands, staring down at them as though they precious jewels. And to him, they were. He loved her with all his soul. Elaine was a gift from God. And Elaine had just as much love for Arthur, if not more. She adored every feature about him, because to her, he was just like the father who now laid there before them. He was brave, and kind, and was the most loving older brother in the world. Or was at least in the deep brown eyes of the little girl. Arthur was truly, a gift from God.

"Arthur, tell me again."

"You've heard it so many times before, Elaine."

"I know that. I want to hear it once again. Please?"

Arthur relented. No matter how many times he told hear the stories about their father, she would always ask again to hear them all over. Arthur assumed it was the child's way of remembering her lost father; she had only been two years old when he fell in battle. Her memory of him was fading as each new year came, and it ultimately became the duty of Arthur and their mother to remind Elaine daily with stories of his deeds, and descriptions of his face. Yet, Arthur secretly enjoyed his bittersweet charge. It too, freshened his memory with the image of his father.

"Which one shall you hear?"

"Tell me about that time, before he fell. You remember, do you not? When we were all home, together, and he took me onto his lap by the fire, and told me of the Angels of God..."

Arthur chuckled, "Would you like me to tell the story, or would you rather tell it yourself?"

Elaine's eyes grew big, and she clasped her hand to her small mouth. Arthur laughed once more at her actions.

"You are right, we were all together, in our chambers at the Wall. It was one of the last times we were all there, as a family. Mother was folding the bedclothes in the nursery, and I was laying near the fireplace, trying to read the scrolls Pelagius gave me."

"And you couldn't," Elaine interrupted with a giggle.

"Yes, I couldn't read full Latin yet."

"I can!"

"Silence, little sprite."

Once again, Elaine covered her mouth, fearing that her brother would stop the story altogether.

"Father was sitting in the large chair by the fire, and I was at his feet reading, or attempting to read, the scrolls of Pelagius. Just then, you came crawling into the room, laughing with all your might, as you tried to escape mother's grasp. You were still wet from your bath, so you slipped away from her arms quite easily. And when he saw you crawling on your tiny belly, dirtying your fresh nightgown, father let out the merriest laugh I'd ever heard come from him. You were giggling hard when he bent down and scooped you up into his lap. Once you had settled, he began to stroke your damp curls. That was the night he told you of your Angel. He said that if he were ever to leave us, and enter into Heaven, he would send forth an Angel to protect you always. But this was no ordinary Angel of God. It was a secret, strange Angel who was concealed in darkness, and that only you may ever hear his voice. This Angel would appear in your dreams at night, and be by your side in light. He would be your guide and guardian for all time."

Once he had finished the tale, Arthur looked off into the distance. He hadn't realized that the sun had already set, and that he still remained here near his father's grave with Elaine in his arms.

"Arthur?"

"Yes, Elaine?"

"When will I find him?"

Arthur stared down upon the girl with a confused look. "Find who?"

"The shadowy Angel."

He smiled, and once again, stared off in the distance down towards the village outside of the Wall. It was were his family now lived. But something was not right. His heart leapt as he saw the scene that now played before them. The village was on fire, Woads surrounding everything.

"Arthur, it's the Woads!"

Arthur quickly rose, grasping Elaine's hand in his. Tears silently began to stream down the terrified child's face. 

"Mother." 


	3. The Last Outpost

Chapter 3 

The Last Outpost of the World

The wagon rocked back and forth as it made it's way down the rocky, dirt path that lead to Hadrian's Wall. Pelagius had prayed that the soothing motions would put the exhausted children into a much needed sleep, especially the youngest, but both still sat inside the cart, staring straight ahead of them. Elaine's eyes were red and swollen. He had held her close to his heart as she sobbed earlier that night. It appeared now, that all the tears she had ever possessed were shed for her mother's passing. Now she sat, her head carelessly rocking from side to side, clutching Arthur's arm with desperate need. Arthur, too, sat silent. Pelagius knew him very well; Arthur would forever blame himself for that night's occurrences. When the Woads had attacked the village, he and Elaine had been up on the hill, playing near their father's grave. They had sprinted down when they'd seen the flames of the fires and heard the screams of the villagers, Arthur leading as Elaine clung to his arm. Once they had reached the village, Arthur instantly knew he must hide Elaine before going to his mother. She was placed in a few bushes, near the village, but far from the danger. Arthur than went to their home. He had tried so hard, so bravely, to save his mother from the flames of the fires. But it was already too late. As the Woads retreated back into the forests, Arthur knelt weeping in front of the villa, his father's sword, Excalibur, at his side, after he retrieved it for battle. Elaine soon joined her brother, hugging him desperately to her as she stared with deep anguish at the flames that had consumed their mother, and their happiness. That was how Pelagius found them, the next morning.

Now, they were traveling to the Wall. Pelagius vowed to see to it that the young children reached the fortress safely, before he would make his way back to Rome. Arthur, heir to his father's title as Roman Commander of the Sarmatian Knights, would soon begin his training. He was to be indebted to Rome for the next fifteen years, serving her as the Roman dignitary and protector in Briton. Soon, he would become a man.

Elaine turned away from her view of the nearing Wall, carefully rubbing her eyes and groaning in pain. She had lost her mother that night. Her weak limbs still ached from the race down the hill, and she had scratches from the bushes, all up and down her legs. Her pink dress, that was made by her mother but a few weeks ago, was now filthy and torn. She had loved it so. Her mother had designed it in a Roman fashion, clasps holding the dress up on the shoulders and the elbows, and long silk ribbons criss-crossing down the sides. Yet, just as her mother usually did, she had added designs all along the material; embroidered light pink flowers appeared, clearly a British addition. Her mother had always taught Elaine about the ways of her people. Their customs, their beliefs. Yet, Elaine now realized that it was her own people who had killed her mother. They had taken her away from Elaine and Arthur forever, without cause.

Elaine turned to ask her brother about the Woads, but closed her mouth before she could utter a single word. The expression on her brothers face made new tears well up in her dark brown eyes. His green eyes, once so bright and noble, were now dim and emotionless. His countenance was ashen, his smile disappeared. Instead, a dark and frightening seriousness covered Arthur's features, bringing forth fear deep in Elaine. His knuckles had turned white has he still gripped Excalibur in his other hand. Tears streamed silently down Elaine's face.

Had she now lost her brother as well?

Days seemed like weeks, and weeks were more like months. Their bodies ached with exhaustion, yet the young Sarmatian boys still rode on horseback. Twenty in all, it appeared that small groups were forming among the young men. Bors and Dagonet, both already men by the standards of Sarmatian custom, tended to stay together, neither one truly associating with the younger boys just yet. Galahad and Lamorak, the both only eight years, rode silently together, under the watchful eye of Gawain, Lamorak's cousin who was but two summer's older than the two. However, Gawain had befriended the young Lancelot and Kay, who were both twelve years, very quickly, so that the five stuck together like hot tar.

Tristan rode alone, just as he had the entire journey. The others were kind, and he knew that he truly could call them his companions, but he still spoke less than any other in the group. He preferred it that way. Deep down, he knew most of the young men around him would never see Sarmatia again, so it was best to only gain trust, no comradeship. Not just yet at least.

"Hadrian's Wall, boys," called the Roman commander at the very front of the troupe. Each pair of young eyes turned forward in awe at the great edifice that grew up from the ground. Never before had they seen such a sight.

"Welcome to hell on earth."

"We are here."

Elaine lifted her head from where it had rested upon Arthur's shoulder. The wagon was entering under the gates of the famed Hadrian's Wall. Elaine stretched her neck out of the window flap to stare up at the seemingly never-ending height of the wall. Though she had lived there as a very young child, and her village was only about two miles away, the greatness of the Wall never ceased to amaze Elaine's youthful mind.

"Arthur, your Knights are here now as well. They arrived just before us," Pelagius pointed ahead. "Look."

Both Arthur and Elaine now looked out at the scene before them. Twenty young boys were dismounting their horses, looking tired, hungry, but probably more obvious, frightened. Arthur's heart began to race, and his hands slightly trembled as nervous insecurities set into his mind. Elaine, who still held onto to her brother, noticed his silent shaking. He was only a boy. She gently reached up with her free hand, cupped his cheek with a motherly touch, and turned his eyes to meet hers.

"Know Arthur, that no matter what happens, no matter how quickly our lives may change, my love for you will never falter. I will be with you always, I promise."

Her brother's eyes softened as his mouth curved into a half smile. He brought his beautiful sister into his embrace and kissed her head.

"I love you, Elaine."

"And I you, Arthur."

Silently, Arthur thanked God. For he knew that a hard life lay ahead for him now. Yet, as long as he had his own bright Angel by his side, he knew he would survive until he was free again.


	4. The Danger of Memories

Chapter 4

The Danger of Memories

"RUS!"

Bors's war cry rang out over the bloodied battlefield. Bodies lay all about their feet, but none of the Knights showed any sign of remorse or pity. This was their charge, and after nearly fourteen years of killing and death, none of them truly felt much any more. Except, perhaps a longing for home.

"You'd think," Lamorak said as he yanked out his sword that had been buried in the belly of a dead Woad, "that if these savages insisted on spending so much time painting themselves blue, they'd perhaps spend some of that time considering about proper armor."

Bors, Dagonet, Tristan, Lancelot, Lamorak, Kay, Gawain, Galahad, and their commander, Arthur, stood side by side on the field, chests still heaving from the victorious battle. The Woads had ambushed them while they were surveying the defenses in the South. Of course, nothing truly caught the legendary Arthur and his Knights off guard.

"These savages, as you say, just put a rather large hole in the backside of your armor, Lamorak," Gawain said with a weary smile. He lifted up his friends loose chain mail with the tip of his axe.

All the rest burst into a much needed bit of laughter, as the youngest Knight made circles looking for the tear in his armored suit. Even Arthur gave a small smile towards Lancelot, who in turn rolled his eyes at Lamorak's antics.

"Knights, let us return home." Arthur said as he turned back towards his stead. The eight men soon joined him as they all mounted their own horses. 

"Finally, we can drink!" Bors said as they rode at a steady pace towards the fortress.

"You just had a drink, not but an hour ago," Kay said, who rode alongside Gawain and Dagonet behind the veteran knight.

"What are you talking about?"

"From the skin there under your saddle bag," Galahad pointed towards the rear of Bors's horse

Bors's brow formed a puzzled look as he reached back behind him and retrieved the wine skin. "Ahh! To Victory."

"Vanora's going to have you're head you know," Lamorak chimed in.

"What she doesn't know won't harm her," Bors replied as he took another large swig of wine, lifting his chin up in fake arrogance.

"She'll smell you a mile away, and that's enough for anyone," Gawain said.

"Well you're not to peachy, either," Kay chuckled as he bent over towards Gawain, balancing himself upon his horse with his thighs, and sniffed his fellow Knight.

Dagonet chuckled behind them, and Lamorak poked Gawain's side, "What will Sienna think?"

"Sienna's the red head right?" Gawain chuckled.

"No, she's the brunette," Kay replied.

"Actually, you're all wrong," Lancelot smirked devilishly, "Sienna's a blonde."

"No, her hair is as dark as yours," Kay argued with a smile.

"No, Kay, she's a natural blonde."

"How do you know?" Lamorak asked with a genuine innocence.

"I have my ways, boy." The group erupted into laughter as Lamorak finally got Lancelot's implication. All but Tristan, who rode alongside Galahad. He had seen his hawk up above him, and held out his arm. The bird of prey swept down and landed on Tristan's outstretched arm.

"Where you been, eh?" Tristan stroked the majestic hawk's neck as he spoke soothing words to her.

Lancelot rode up to Arthur who lead the knights. He had noticed his friends pensive behavior that morning when they had awoken, that still remained, and he had become concerned.

"Well Arthur, are you going to sulk all day, again, or will you tell me what troubles you? And don't tell me you've got God on your mind, or I'll hit you over the head with the hilt of my sword."

Arthur smiled to his best companion. Lancelot knew him so well. Yet, Arthur's face quickly fell again and her turned forward once more as he spoke.

"I dreamt of her again, last night. About the night she was taken."

Lancelot's countenance fell. He felt for his brother. Arthur had lost so much that had been so dear to him.

"Arthur, she's gone. You cannot dwell upon her forever. She was an angel, and she loved you, but she's gone."

Anger grew in Arthur's eyes, "Do not speak as though she lay buried in some shallow grave!"

"Arthur, you must see the truth. The reality."

"She isn't dead. I would have know." Arthur sighed and looked down upon his hands, "I would have know," he spoke quietly.

Lancelot sighed, "Forgive me, Arthur. I was harsh."

"It is all right, Lancelot. I just..."

"You just need to come to the tavern tonight , bed some pretty barmaid, and drown yourself in ale."

The two laughed as the tension of only moments ago was lifted. Neither of them saw that the dark scout had ventured up near to them as they spoke. Tristan had heard of Arthur's dream. It brought back old memories that he thought lay buried in the depths of his mind. He silently glanced around at the Knights. All were men now, nearing the end of their charge. Lamorak and Galahad, the youngest, still had Sarmatia fresh in their minds, especially Galahad. The man daily spoke of his disdain of Rome, and of his longing to go home. Yet, for the others, himself including, Sarmatia had become just a distant memory. His thoughts lead him back to their first night in Briton ,when he was only still a boy.  
The first night that they had become Arthur's Knights.

Tristan sat upon a low stool, near the stall of his father's horse. With a knife, that his mother had once given to him, Tristan sliced a wedge of the bright red apple in his hand. He had never seen this kind of fruit before; there were no apple trees in his land. Slipping the piece slowly into his mouth, Tristan savored the morsel as if it were the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. The sweet juices filled his mouth, and he closed his eyes as he swallowed. It had been five months since he had left Sarmatia. Five months that he had traveled on horseback, through snow, rain and unbearable heat, all just to reach Briton. Tristan felt, that because of all he had faced, all that he would face, he deserved some sweet reward. This apple, he thought, would do fine. For now.

Gawain sat on the dirt ground beside Tristan, wiping his eyes, desperately trying to free himself from the fatigue that had consumed them all. 

"Ahh, I can't wait to leave this island! We've been here only an hour and I already loathe the damned place," Gawain kicked at the ground in front of him, causing a puff of dirt to soar up into the stale air of the stables.

Lancelot, who was leaning against a beam, let out a sarcastic chuckle, "Fifteen years. With those feelings, you won't last a week."

"Boys!"

Twenty, young, Sarmatian eyes turned to the Roman commander who had lead them to the Wall, standing in the door of the stables. They soon noticed that a boy, about the same age as most of them, stood beside the Roman. He stood straight, with a proud air about him, despite his disheveled appearance, and soot ridden clothing. He was obviously Roman. The Sarmatian's probably would have despised him that very moment, had it not been for the boy's eyes. They were kind, innocent, and frightened, just like theirs. 

"Arise, and meet your Commander. Lucius Artorius Castus."

The boys looked around at each other with a confused look, but still rose on the Roman's word. The Romans must be fools, if they truly expected this pale, thin boy to command them in battle.

"I'll leave you, milord." The Roman said, not completely accustomed to giving such respect and honor to only a boy.

Arthur stood there for a few moments, staring intently at the face of each of the knights before him. He wanted to know each of them well, and treat them all with respect and equality.

"I am Arthur, and I want you, all of you, to gain the freedom that is denied to you now. It pains me to know of the sacrifices you've made, that you will make. But if you carry at least one belief with you in this charge, let it be this one: that I will fight with you, at your side, I will lay my life down for yours, and I will honor you as an equal, not as a servant of Rome. We were all born onto this earth, and we must all bear this burden. Let us do it as brothers."

The entire room was silent, each boy taking in what the young Roman had just said. Never had they heard such language in their lives, especially from a Roman. Yet here stood Arthur, a long sword in one hand, as he offered them his regard and his trust with the other. All the Sarmatians, hearing these words that day, pledged their lives and loyalty to Arthur alone. From then on, they would serve him as brothers in arms.

Bors, who had been standing behind with Dagonet, made his way through to the front. The giant form of the twenty-year-old towered over the boy of only eleven. He than knelt down in front of Arthur, turned to everyone else to follow suit, banged his fist to his chest and cried, "Rus!"

"RUSS!" 

Arthur smiled the first smile he had given all night. 

From his place on the ground were he knelt, Tristan suddenly spotted a tiny form in pink kneeling in the shadows of the stable corner. As the other boys dispersed and went to greet their new commander, Tristan kept his eyes on the tiny creature, not entirely sure if it was human or not. Silently, he rose from the earth, and made his way over to the corner. None saw him disappear into the shadows, not even the tiny creature. It was not until he stood over her, that the girl, as he determined, jumped and stared up at his presence.

"Who are you?" a small, sweet voice questioned him. Tristan wasn't one for talk, not even with the other boys. But as he studied her delicate face, he realized that his mouth could find words a little easier. But only just a little.

"Tristan."

"Oh, well you frightened me!"

"Well, I wouldn't have if you weren't lurking here in the shadows," Tristan pointed out.

"I suppose your right." The girl frowned and looked back at the scene. Tristan followed her gaze, which seemed to be fixed upon his new young commander.

"What are you doing here?"

"Arthur is my brother." Tristan eyes grew wide slightly. The girl turned back up him with a beautiful smile. It was then, in that very moment, that Tristan lost his heart.

"I'm Elaine."

Her mystical face still haunted him, though he was sure that the love he had felt that singular night had all but dissipated. Fourteen years of battle had hardened his heart, the way his parents death had hardened it before he met Elaine that night. The same way it had hardened again that very night, when she was taken from both Arthur and his lives forever. 


	5. Inheritance

Chapter 5

Inheritance of the Sarmatian Born

"She gave me fleas!" Gawain screeched from his seat in the tavern. The knights erupted in laughter as each sat around their usual table, mug of ale in their hands. 

"You better hope they're fleas!" Galahad joked, causing Kay to burst, nearly falling from his chair. Dagonet had to steady his friend, lifting his arm around Kay's shoulders as the knight carelessly swayed in his seat.

Drowning themselves in ale and wine after a mission, in fact after everything really, was the Knights most joyous retreat. The Tavern was their sanctuary; a place where the horrors of the outside world could not reach them, and where they could, in a way, be free men. 

After he had dried the tears of laughter out of his eyes and caught his breathe, Galahad sighed, "Come, Lamorak, Gawain. It is time to teach you a thing or two about throwing knives."

"Oh, Galahad, have you not learned yet," Gawain shook his head, "you are no match for me."

The three stood and held a contest on a nearby beam. One of Lamorak's knives just nearly missed Vanora as she passed by, drinks in each hand. 

"Lamorak!" Vanora's eyes were filled with unspeakable rage as she slammed the mugs hard on a table. Lamorak froze in place, eyes growing wide with fear of the red haired woman's fury.

"You'd better start running, boy!" Bors yelled with a laugh, the five ales he'd consumed slurring his speech.

As Vanora chased after the helpless Lamorak, wooden spoon in her hand, the crowd once again erupted in laughter. All, except for Tristan. He sat at the table with his fellow knights, but in a very secluded corner. Although he enjoyed the company of the men, Tristan preferred to observe, rather than completely join in. He sat, one foot propped up on the table, slicing into a fresh green apple, and silently watched the resumed game between Galahad and Gawain. He knew that he would soon rise and teach the both of them, once again, how to properly throw a knife.

"Here Tristan, you've hadn't had a drink," Kay said as he noticed the scout.

"No, thanks," Tristan responded without the slightest change of his calm countenance, "One of us has got to have some wits about them."

Kay chuckled and shook his head. Tristan hardly ever touched ale. Kay was always the one to offer, but was always denied. He remember once, a few years back, when he had asked the dark scout why he never drank. 'Why would I poison myself?' he had said, 'Besides, the Woads would have an advantage over a portly, drunken scout."

"Sienna," Lancelot spoke into the neck of the cheap blonde tavern wench on his lap, "do you know that you're the prettiest girl here."

The wench giggled and turned to kiss Lancelot full on the lips. Kay turned to Tristan rolling his eyes, and pretending to gag at the sight. Tristan just smirked. Lancelot had always been one with the wenches at the wall. He had probably went to bed with every single one more than once. Tristan saw such behavior as a weakness. Completely unnecessary. Sure, he had been with one or two, but only when he was looking for a kind of release. They weren't completely satisfying encounters for him. The women were all the same, none appealing to his tastes.

"Knights!"

The men looked up to see that Jols, the squire of the Knights, came running into the open tavern.

"Arthur requests your presence at the table."

Bors sighed openly, and hung his head with annoyance, "That can only mean one thing."

All the Knights of the Wall stood around the great round table. Arthur had had it constructed the day that he had truly became their commander; the day after they had first all plunged into their first battle. All were equal, all voices heard.

"Let us not forget that we are the fortunate ones," Arthur said at his seat at the table. Lancelot sat three seats down to his left, Kay right next to him. Farther down, Lamorak sat in the middle of Galahad and Gawain, his cousin. Two seats after Gawain sat Tristan, and two seats after his seat sat Bors with Dagonet completing the half circle. After fourteen years, only nine seats were still occupied. They had lost many companions, many brothers.

The knights each held up their goblets, following the lead of their Roman commander, "Let us raise our wine to those gallant and extraordinary men we have lost but who will be remembered for eternity."

"To Freedom!" Bors called out.

"TO FREEDOM!"

After the men had toasted, they sat in their respected chairs, all eyes bearing down at Arthur expectantly. They knew why they had been summoned.

"Knights, we have been summoned to the very Eastern outpost of Hadrian's Wall. There is a caravan of Celts coming from the Island of Shalott, and we've been ordered by Rome to go and survey their activities."

"Celts?" Lancelot interrupted, "They are not under the surveillance of Rome, not yet at least. Why are we to watch them?"

"Rome fears an alliance between them and the Woads."

"Celts hate Britons as much as Rome does," Gawain murmured, "As much as we do."

"Since when have there been Celts in Shalott?" Lamorak asked with a dumbfounded look. Shalott was a small island, between Briton and Ireland, that was filled with deep forests and vast shores. Though none of the Knights, nor Arthur had ever seen the secluded island, they had heard tales from Irish merchants of its beauty.

"Shalott has been inhabited by a large tribe of Celts, who branched away from Ireland when it became Catholic two hundred years ago. Since than, this group has remained pagan and have retained their Celtic heritage."

"I like them already," Lancelot said sarcastically as he finished off his wine. All the Knights had remained pagan, and all had held a disdain of the Catholic religion of their commander.

Ignoring Lancelot's remark, Arthur continued, "It is rumored that a Celtic healer is among the small group. It is said that the Celt's healing powers have advanced even those of Rome. We are to find this healer and bring him back to the Wall with us, leaving the caravan after we know of their intentions."

"We're going to just take him?" Kay said, raising his eyebrow. "Arthur, we can't just seize a man, take him from his people, just because Rome wants to learn the secrets of his trade."

"Rome did it to us, remember?" Galahad spit out. "Why not do it again with this Celt."

Arthur sighed, taking his head in his hand, fatigue still running through his bones. He loved his men as he would brothers of the same blood. They knew him as a man, as well as a commander. But why couldn't they understand? Arthur let out another sigh as he realized that he truly didn't understand his life, his charge too.

Dagonet took noticed of his leader's distraught look, and took pity. "It is Rome who commands this, not Arthur. If you go to the East Arthur, than I will follow."

Arthur looked at the giant of a man with a relieved smile, thankful as always for his presence. His loyalty.

The rest of the men sat in silence for a few moments, slightly ashamed that they were questioning the leadership of Arthur. Lancelot stood first, "I shall prepare."

Arthur smiled and stood as well. "We leave at dawn." 


	6. The Healer

Thanks to all who have review my story thus far. I really appreaciate your encouragement and help, more than you know!

I'm going on a short trip this weekend, but I'll try to add Chapter 7 and possibly chapter 8 before I leave. I've just been writing like crazy, so many ideas spinning in my mind at once. I promise to type up more chapters on the road.

Dellis, the whole Elaine being taken will be answered soon, I promise. I know its kind of confusing, but I didn't want that whole story to be told all at once, but rather slowly in the next two chapters. Sorry, but thanks for your kind words. They made my day!

Glad you liked the Vanora and Lamorak scene, boondockgal! It was sort of an afterthought that I hoped would give some more comedy to my story! I want Lamorak to be the sort of lovable little brother that is kind of innocent and but still a knight.

Keep the reviews coming! You'll get some Action in this chapter! But not in the way you might want, sorry. hehe (thinks of tristan, lancelot, heck all the knights.)

Chapter 6

The Healer

A thick fog, that consumed everything within sight like a shadow upon the earth, had rapidly settle upon the lands of Briton. An unbearable cold wind blew strongly from the East, greatly effecting the efforts of nine riders that appeared over the horizon. Yet, these men were skilled horsemen, and they expertly rode against the oncoming wind with exceptional agility.

Arthur and his Sarmatian Knights had set out the next morning as the sun was just rising in the dim sky. Few were there to see them off, save for Vanora and the ten bastards of Bors, because of the early hour. Kay joked that it was just like the Romans to sleep in.

Now, the Knights were nearing the Eastern most edge of Hadrian's Wall, where many travelers and merchants came to the British shores from other distant lands.

Just as they were entering a wooded plain, the scout sensed that many eyes were watching them from the trees and underbrush. From his place in the back, Tristan knew his voice wouldn't reach his commander in time. So, he acted first. Quickly drawing an arrow from his quiver, Tristan shot at an unseen figure in the woods. There was a wail of agony, as a blue body fell into the path of the oncoming Knights. Arthur's white stead reared up in surprised fear, but the equally shocked Roman kept a hold of the beast. He drew Excalibur and yelled, "Woads!"

Countless numbers of blue bodied warriors gushed out from the forest walls, foreign tongues yelling horrible war cries. The Knights ready themselves for the onslaught.

A burly woad lunged out at Lancelot from a tree, tackling the knight to the ground with so much force, that it blew the air from his lungs. Lancelot rolled over in pain, vainly attempting to grab for his fallen sword. The woad took advantage of the knight's momentary weakness, as he raised his sword directly over Lancelot, for what would be a death blow. Just as he brought down his sword, the unfortunate warrior's head jolted back at the impact of Tristan's second arrow, his body dead before he hit the ground. Lancelot quickly caught his breathe once more, grabbing his sword and drawing it's twin out from it's scabbard on his back. The Woad that had come to finished his fallen comrade's mission, desperately tried to block Lancelot's swift, strong blows, but ultimately the Knight got the better of him. Lancelot plunged his swords sideways into the man's abdomen, fatal gashes spewing red blood as he wailed in pain. Lancelot, indifferent to the man's suffering, simply ran on to the next adversary. He ran over towards Galahad, slicing into oncoming Woads with great speed. The young Knight, who still remained on his stead, was surrounded, and although he had hacked away most of their lives with his short sword, the Woads were slowly overtaking him. Until, Lancelot and Gawain, who was completely covered with blood after killing six Woads simultaneously, came to Galahads aide. Their combined strengths quickly overwhelmed the group of Woads. Most retreated back into the forests.

Bors let out his famous battle cry, as he beat and sliced into Woad after Woad. The veteran Knight, preferring hand-to-hand combat, had quickly jumped from his horse as the woads attacked, and actually ran towards a group of ten charging Woad warriors. Dagonet, sensing that his old friend had acted a little foolhardily, ran forth, beating down three Woads with merely a tackle with his studded armor. Kay and Arthur, fought back to back, each watching out for the other as more ran from the forest. Arthur was battling a short Woad with a long sword, as Kay swung his short axe down upon the sword of his opponent, taking the Woad's absence of defense over quickly as he brought his saber swiftly across the throat of the man. Blood squirted onto Kay's face, but the tall, green-eyed man ignored the gore, turning around to his commander, as Arthur decapitated the short Woad after knocking the man's sword from his grasp. The two looked at each other, chests heaving, with no emotions in their eyes. The battle was nearly over.

Lamorak, who also managed to stay upon his horse, shot eight Woads that had attempted to sneak upon the other battling knights with his long bow. He than charge his chestnut stead into a thick crowd of Woads, expertly swinging a short sword in his right hand, and a long knife in the other. As his horse made it through the crowd, the youngest of the Sarmatians left a bloody trail of dead Woads in his wake. Tristan, had dismounted quickly after shooting the arrow that had save Lancelot. He had been able to shot two more Woads in the trees from his spot on the muddy ground, before he drew his long curved saber. Three warriors charged him at once from all different directions, but Tristan gracefully spun around them with inhuman speed, slicing through the men and ending each their lives in mere seconds.

Within minutes of the ambush, the battle was over, and the surviving Woads ran back into the woods, disappearing from sight once again. The Knights stood over the bloodied ground side by side, again.

Lamorak, who had dismounted and ran over to join his comrades, spoke first, "Why would they attack this far East?"

"It was if they knew of our mission," Dagonet stated more to himself than anyone else. It was what all the Knights were thinking.

"But why would they care if we were escorting the Healer to the wall?" Lamorak asked.

"This wasn't a normal ambush, Arthur," Lancelot stared over at the Roman with an expecting look, "Merlin sent them here for a reason. They were sent to stop us ."

Arthur stared into the deep forests, his heart still pounding inside his chest, as he tried to discover a reason for the attack. Woads very rarely ventured this far East, and when they did, it was only when Merlin, their leader, was attempting some sort of action himself. Arthur froze as realization set in. Merlin was trying to reach the caravan first, they just got in the way.

"Tristan!"

The scout had already been studying Arthur's face and knew what he had just realized.

"There is a trail, that will lead right to the main road where the seamen come in from. It's through the woods, but it's short."

"Knights!"

The hoofs of each Knight's horse , pounded into the loose dirt of the narrow path, as they raced through the dense British forest. Arthur's heart frantically beat, as his fear of what lay ahead grew more with each step. He couldn't fail this mission; he couldn't have his men risk their lives for no reason.

Soon, they reached an opening, and came upon a bright valley of green grasses, a broad dusty road traveling directly down the middle of it. Arthur, once again, lead his knights as the spread out behind him, forming a W-shaped formation.

It wasn't long after they had entered the valley, that they came upon the smoke of the dying fires. They slowed as they neared the caravan, or what was left of the caravan. Each knight looked on in disbelief and displeasure. Their hearts sank when they came upon fallen bodies, either bloody or charred by the fire. Men, women, about ten in all, lay unceremoniously about the earth.

Arthur dismounted, with a slight look of horror. It had been a slaughter.

"They didn't even have time to defend themselves," Gawain motioned to the body of a man, who appeared to have been reaching for the sword at his side. He lay with an arrow in his chest, hand still on the hilt, as if his moment of death had been forever frozen in time.

Kay and Lancelot soon joined Arthur, as each carefully examined the dead. "Do you think the healer is among them?" Lamorak asked the three from his horse.

"How could you even begin to tell?" Kay shook his head in pity. Many of the dead were, unfortunately, quite disfigured from the ambush.

"Because of that." Lancelot said, pointing to a perfect carriage, untouched by the flames, horses still attached, and completely rid of any sign of attack. Save for a tear in the flap that had served as a door. Arthur and Kay ran to the carriage, the others slowly following behind. Arthur entered the carriage, noting that the many pieces of luggage, some full of healing tools and herbs.

"This was the healer's carriage," he called out to the rest, "it appears that they surprised him, and dragged him out. From what I can tell, the healer is still alive." Arthur jumped down from the carriage and jogged over to the men, who circled him.

"Or at least he was," Lancelot added with anger for the Woads on clearly on his face. Arthur sighed, carefully thinking on their next form of action.

"Tristan, can you track them?"

Tristan drew close to Arthur, "They took a horse from the caravan," he said pointing down to the muddy hoof prints, that had surrounding feet print nearby. "They head back West."

This time, Tristan lead the men quickly back through the forests, following closely the trail left by the Woads. Because of the freshness of the prints, he knew that they were still very nearby. Tristan made a fist in the air, the knights slowing down to a trot to meet up with the stopped scout.

"Arthur, the prints end. The healer dismounted the horse, and ran off into the forest, the Woads following closely behind."

"How do you know the healer was on the horse?" Galahad asked.

"The prints. They're small and not very deep. The healer must have been wearing slippers, the Woads wore heavy boots."

Arthur looked at the prints for a moment, than up into the forest where they entered. "Tristan, you enter in here first, we'll circle around and surround them. They will have not gotten far."

Tristan jumped down from his gray horse, grabbed his bow and quiver, and silently disappeared through the entrance. He heard the men gallop away behind him, and knew they had taken his stead with them. Tuning out all other noise, Tristan focused around at his surroundings. He stuck in the shadows of the great trees, effortless moving through the forest without a single noise. Tristan was in his natural state; he was the predator.

A twig snapped to his right, and Tristan swiftly crouched in the underbrush, his arrow extended out. From his position, he saw a pair of feet enter into the clearing in front of him. He would take him by surprise.

Tristan jumped up quickly, aiming his bow at the heart of the person in the clearing. It truly surprised him to see that, despite his movements were silent, the figure had it's own bow and arrow aimed directly at his heart as well. It had somehow sensed his presence and had enter the clearing to trick him out of his spot.

That fact that this creature had sensed him did not surprise Tristan as much as what he discovered secondly. Not a man, nor a Woad stood before him. But a woman. Her milky white skin glowed in the dim light of the forest, her long, wavy, raven brown hair gently blew in the breeze, as she panted from exhaust. She wore a long cream colored gown, that dipped down low upon her chest. Upon seeing her, Tristan's predatory demeanor slipped slightly, almost causing him to lower his bow. But he quickly snapped back, chiding himself for such a foolish motion.

The two stood there for what seemed like an eternity, each carefully studying the other one. The woman, equally surprised by the man she had half expected to not be there at all, noticed the man's appearance. His dark eyes bore into her, and despite herself, she found them both intimidating and enchanting at the same time. They seemed to contradict his gruff exterior, and yet fit him at the same time. She shook her head in slight confusion.

"Edan n'uma goth," the woman finally spoke in a foreign tongue. "Manke annon sulo, taur'othar?"

Tristan did not show the woman any sign of acknowledgement, nor did he move as the woman took a step forward. He still wasn't sure what to make of her. Was she of the caravan? She did not even look Celtic. The Celts were big, blonde creatures, and this woman look more like a Briton. Or a Roman.

Just than, Arthur and the men charged in, circling the woman who frantically turned from Tristan in surprise, aiming her bow around at each knight. The men just stared at the creature before them. They truly hadn't expected to find her there.

"All the Woads from the tracks lay dead a few yards back," Arthur told Tristan, not taking his eyes of the woman. "There is an arrow in each."

"You mean she...?" Lancelot trailed off in disbelief.

Tristan finally lowered his bow, but didn't take his gaze away from the woman, for two reasons. One being she was a stranger, and the other for which he wished to stab his foot for. Her beauty was so evident, even the scout couldn't help but stare.

"Lady, I am Artorius Castus of Hadrian's Wall, we've been sent for your healer."

At his words, the woman froze completely, her eyes wide as she stared up at the commander. The bow feel limp to her side, and her mouth opened in awe slightly. Her eyebrows curved in disbelief.

The knights noticed her shock, and looked questioningly from her to their commander. Arthur, too, had a puzzled look, but he kept his dignitary air about him. This woman look so familiar.

"Toror'?" the woman whispered.

"Your healer, is he alive?"

The woman broke out of her spell by Lancelot's voice, and she looked at the knights with a half smirk.

"I don't think she speaks..."

"Do not worry yourselves with the healer," the woman interrupted Kay as she turned her attention back to Arthur," for she can defend herself."

The knights were taken about, and the woman laughed at their expressions despite her fixation on Arthur.

"I am the healer you seek."

"But you're..." Lamorak innocently trailed off.

"A woman? Yes, and I thank you for noticing."

Bors chuckled at the woman's quick wit, and Lancelot, smitten with her beauty already, offered her a devilish grin. The woman noticed and turned away as a blush crept up into her cheeks.

"It's only that, we expected an old man, with a long gray beard," Gawain half joked.

"Well, I am sorry than that I've disappointed you."

"You are hardly a disappointment, milady," Lancelot said with a grin. Tristan glared at the cad of a knight.

"Lady, we've come to escort you to the wall."

The woman once again stared at Arthur. Her eyes turned sad for a moment before she neared the Roman. "Has it been that long for you?"

Arthur looked at the woman, completely confused. "Milady?"

Tears welled in the young woman's eyes, as she drew close into the face of the commander. The others stared around at each other very much befuddled. Who was this woman?

"You've been in my mind, my dreams every day."

"Forgive me, I do not believe I've ever met you."

The woman huffed as she stared up at Arthur. "Arthur." The woman than reach down her chest and grasped at a chain fastened around her neck. "Perhaps, if you cannot remember my face, you will remember this."

The woman lifted her fingers to reveal a pendant in her palm. It was a breathtaking clear cut stone held by looping etched silver pieces. It appeared to be in the shape of a flower, but looked like a tiny star upon the woman's breast.

Arthur's jaw dropped as the woman's fingers curled open. He nearly feel back. He would remember that stone anywhere, and would remember the one who carried it.


	7. Reunion

I'll be gone this weekend and probably won't be able to update until Monday, so I wanted to get out chapter 7 before I left. I promise to write on the road though. 

Here are some translations of the made-up Celtic lanuage that the woman spoke in the last chapter. I used some Elf words from Tolkien, not mine of course, and jumbled them together.

Edan n'uma goth - You are no woad.  
Manke annon sulo, taur'othar? - Will you make a strike, stranger?  
Toror'? - Brother?

Again, thanks for reviewing. I love reading your helpful and kind comments

I'd be honored if you wanted to added my story to your favorites, Litha2124.

Enjoy!

Chapter 7

Reunion

Arthur, the brave, legendary commander of the Sarmatian Knights, had trouble breathing. His whole body shook, tremors racing up his limbs, as he stared at the woman standing before. Suddenly, the world seemed to be opening up like a budding flower. There she was. Arthur could no longer see anyone else, only her fixed there right there in front of him like a sort of magical apparition. Her features had changed, matured, but her beauty remained, and deep down Arthur knew it was truly her.

The commander took a step towards her, closing the distance between them slowly. Lancelot's brow furrowed at the actions of his best friend; did Arthur know this strange woman in some sort of past life? Lancelot soon got the answer he desired.

"Elaine?" Arthur whispered, as he reached forward and hesitantly took the woman's face in his hands.

The woman smiled, two single tears slipping down her rose cheeks. She looked up at the man that her brother had become. When she was littler, she used to imagine what he look like as they grew with age.

All the knights looked at each other with puzzled faces, each desperately trying to figure the relation between Arthur and this, Elaine. All except for Tristan and Lancelot. Tristan, of course knew her from that night long ago, when they were still young. Lancelot had, of course, been told by Arthur in confidence about his long lost sister.

Tristan's heart pounded so hard against his chest, that he actually grimaced. His first love had mystically appeared after nearly fourteen years, and not only that, but she had changed into a breathtaking lady. Feelings foreign and very unwanted swarmed around inside of Tristan body. Would she remember him? The scout turned away from the scene, disgusted with himself for what he felt inside. He walked over to his horse that had been brought back to him, and mounted, completely ignoring the others. As he busied himself with rearranging the arrows in his quiver, Tristan found it harder to take no notice of thoughts of Elaine, that swam in his mind. He lost his inner battle with himself, and turned back to Arthur and the woman, maintaining his mask of no emotion.

"How...Where..?" words tumbled from Arthur's lips as he stroked Elaine's face, not really believing that she could even be there.

Elaine placed her small palms on Arthur's hard hands and smiled up with such great love, "I missed you more than you'll ever know. My prays have been answered. Fourteen years have passed, and war has not taken you from this earth. Oh, Arthur."

The two embraced each other. Arthur still visually trembled as he held Elaine in his arms once again. She was alive, nothing else mattered.

"Arthur," Kay interrupted the siblings, as each looked up teary eyed at the Knights. Arthur immediately snapped out of his reverie, reluctantly released Elaine, straightened up and cleared his hoarse throat.

"Men, this woman is my sister, Elaine."

Six jaws dropped simultaneously as Arthur's admission wrung out around the stale forest air. Sister? Of Arthur? Their Arthur?

"But...you had no ..." Bors stumbled with his words just like Arthur had done seconds before,

"She's your sister?" Galahad said looking the woman up and down, causing Elaine to become flushed. She truly wasn't used to so many eyes upon her at once and it made her anxious. Elaine inched back towards Arthur as she looked towards the ground.

"Elaine, these are my knig..."

"What was she doing with the Celts?" Tristan interrupted. Each man, even Arthur soon realized that the question the scout had introduced, had been surfacing in each of their minds. Arthur turned back to his sister with a frown.

"It was the Celts?" he asked as his heart sank at the memory.

Elaine looked sadly into her brother's broken face. "Yes."

Instantly, Arthur scooped Elaine up into a tight embrace.

"Arthur, we must leave now." Tristan spoke up again, as he skimmed the trees for any more Woads. Of course, he wanted to hear the answers he had so longed for, just as much as Arthur, but now was not the time. His dark eyes frantically scanned the trees, yet his face remained calm and cool as ever. Elaine studied the dark man's face over the strong shoulder of her brother. She had honestly never seen anyone like him, and she was intrigued by his almost animalistic grace and agility. Elaine had always been one of the best archers among her people, but the moment she saw the dark man emerged from the underbrush, she knew that he could have easily taken her down.

"Yes," Arthur said as he pulled away once more, and composed himself. "We'll return to the caravan, and collect your carriage."

Elaine suddenly remember the troupe she had been journeying with. "My people? Are they alright? Will they join us?"

Arthur grew deadly silent as he looked down at Elaine. She, in turn grew frantic under his gaze, and she quickly looked in the faces of the Knights for the answer. In the distance, a neigh from a great horse could be heard, and they turned to she a tall white steed emerge from the forest. The beast trotted directly over to Elaine, ignoring the mounted men completely.

"Luka," Elaine swiftly mounted the saddle less horse, before Arthur could responded, and sped off towards the caravan. The knights stood dumbfounded for a moment before they quickly followed the woman.

When they arrived back at the sight of the massacre of Celtic travelers, Elaine had already dismounted. As she stood looking over the horrible scene, smoke from the fires blew her long wavy tresses about her face.

"Nan' arda ed' ba

Elaine's face fell, and she brought her hands up to her face, desperately trying to stop her tears from forming. Arthur was quickly at her side. "They were as they are when we arrived," he whispered to her. "The Woads don't usually journey this far East without cause. I am sorry."

After a few moments, Elaine straightened up and turned with solemn, proud face that Arthur had never seen before. "They were innocent," she whispered. "They were not warriors, and didn't know how to defend themselves against such an attack. The Woads seem to pray on the blood of the innocent, don't they Arthur." The coldness of her tone sent sadness into his heart.

"Come, we must leave."

Okay, here's this chapter's Celtic translation

Nan' arda ed' ba. - Be at peace.


	8. Fireside Meetings

Well I am back! I wrote both chapters 8 and 9 in the car this weekend and I'll be posting 9 soon, probably tomorrow. Thanks for all the reviews, I am so happy that you enjoy the story!

Both 8 and 9 are quote lengthy, but you will finally understand in this capture why Elaine was "taken" from Arthur

Enjoy and tell me what you think!

Chapter 8

Fireside Meetings

By nightfall, the unpredictable rains of Briton, had begun to rage over the ten riders. After Tristan had scouted out the areas surrounding them ahead, the knights decided that it would be best to wait out the storm. And, of course, the men desired some answers about the lady who traveled beside them upon her white horse. 

Elaine had been silent during their brief journey. She was both saddened by the loss of so many of her people, and ashamed that she hadn't run back to their aide when she got loose from the Woad's grasp. Instead, she had made a sort of twisted game out of hunting down each Woad that attacked her in the woods. While she was pursuing her hunt, her people lay dying. 

"Elaine?"

Arthur's soft voice awoke Elaine from her dreamy state, and she realized that the men had already dismounted their steeds and had begun to set up camp in the nearby shelter of the woods. She felt foolish as she realized that she still resided atop her white horse, Luka. Arthur carefully helped her down, cautious that her pretty white gown was not torn or tarnished. Elaine also wore a heavy blue cloak that hid her face and hair from the down pour of rain.

"Arthur, I'm sorry for the way I acted. I shouldn't have spoken about our mother's death in such a harsh manner. You must think me a fool."

"Never, and there is nothing to forgive," Arthur sighed as he rested his forehead upon hers. The two stayed like this for a short while before Arthur raised his head and actually smiled down upon Elaine. "But we can talk of those affairs later. You're here now. Come, you must meet my men."

Nervousness filled Elaine as Arthur took her hand and lead her over towards the fire, which the men had just started. Inside, she felt that she hadn't made the best first impression on Arthur's knights; first she nearly put on arrow through the dark one, than she had teased the youngest, blushed at the handsome one's words, than galloped away like a madwoman. Elaine's grasp on her brother's hand tightened, but Arthur, happy to have his sister meet his brothers, barely took notice of her anxiousness. The men looked up as their commander neared the fire, all eyes focused on his sister.

"Well, lady," Lancelot called from his seat on the ground near Bors and Dagonet, "you've seemed to have taken all of us by surprise. Not many can claim that feat."

Elaine smiled than quickly darted he eyes to the ground. Why was she so nervous?

"Elaine, this is Lancelot. And beside him is Bors, and Dagonet."

As Arthur spoke each man's name, they each smiled and nodded towards Elaine. Gawain, who had just returned from the forest gathering logs for the fire, appeared at Elaine's side. "I'm Gawain." Elaine smiled at the long haired knight. Gawain seemed to be a fiercely strong man, but she noted his eyes; they were a calming blue that almost made her nervous feelings all but disappear. Gawain smiled once more before joining Lamorak upon a fallen tree trunk.

"And beside Gawain is Galahad and Lamorak, than Kay, and Tris..." Arthur searched the men, but couldn't locate the face of his trusted scout. 

"Tristan's gone out again," Dagonet spoke, "and he said he needed you to join him when you were finished here, over there." Dagonet extended one large finger towards the forest wall.

"He said it was about the Woads," Lamorak added, turning back to Elaine with, hoping she had noticed him. The youngest knight had an innocent heart, and he realized that his commander's sister was causing it to warm. 

"Right," Arthur said his face turning stoic once again. He gently spoke to his sister, "Stay here, I'll shall return soon." Elaine smiled, taking Arthur's head in her soft hands, bending his forehead down to her lips.

"My heart is full again, finally," she whispered so that only he could hear. Arthur smiled.

"As is mine."

After Arthur departed, Elaine stood frozen in her spot, unconsciously wrenching her hands, as she look down upon the men. Her breathe came shaky out of her chest, as the men stared at her each with different thoughts in their minds. 

"I do not know much of the ways of healing," Lancelot said as he looked down at the fire, poking at the red embers with a long knife, "but I'm sure that even a great healer can catch her death standing out in the rain for too long."

Elaine's eyes narrowed at the knight as she suddenly found her courage. "You may be right, Sir Lancelot. But I am sure that even a Sarmatian knight is not entirely immune to a blow over the head with a rock either."

Bors chuckled, as the rest stared at Lancelot. It wasn't everyday that the cunning knight was challenged, especially by a woman. Lancelot huffed at Elaine's threat, acting as though her words simply blew by him in the wind. Yet, her words were not lost on him, and he gave a sideways glance to the woman, who was venturing over to a sit near Kay. Seeing that Elaine intended on sitting near him, Kay's arm darted over to clear his bags away from the spot. At his kindness, Elaine grinned.

"Sir Kay, thank you," she said as she sat upon the log, Kay nodding at her. "It is so very nice to see that manners have not been lost in all men."

The group all laughed, the nervous tone from before disappearing. Galahad patted Lancelot's shoulder, "You judge poor Lancelot incorrectly, my lady. He is actually quite a gentlemen. Yes, many of the women at the wall know of Lancelot's gentlemanly ways quite well."

Elaine raised an eyebrow, just barely catching Galahad's hinted suggestion. "I see."

Lancelot looked up once more at Elaine, "Of course, no wench comes close to you, lady."

"Oh, and how do you see this?"

"None of them could compare to the beautiful, graceful way you gallop away from strange men."

The men burst into laughter, as Elaine's face grew rose red. Clearly, Elaine's swift and unexpected departure had made the sensation that she feared it might have.

"Yes, I suppose so," she responded after the laughter had died down a little. "Can I assume that you are used to the sight of a woman, a real woman, fleeing from your sight in a frenzy?"

"Ha, Lancelot. The Lady's got you there!" Bors guffawed in between sips from his wine skin. The veteran knight's eyes sparkled in the fire light as he looked at the young woman across from him. In a strange way, she reminded him of his Vanora, with her quick tongue. 

Elaine giggled, causing the knights, even Lancelot to grin from ear to ear. This girl's presence had a calming effect on them, and they felt as though the were all safe in the tavern, not freezing in the British woods.

Lamorak stood up quickly with sudden inspiration, and made his way to Elaine's side, offering her his water skin, "Water, my lady?" Lamorak's smile was nervous, but kind.

Elaine took the skin, "Thank you Sir Lamorak, and please, all of you, call me Elaine. You make me sound like some stuffy Roman, when you call me Lady."

Lamorak looked adoringly at Elaine and whispered, "Elaine."

"But you are Roman." Gawain said.

A frown appeared on the girl's face, "Only by blood." Elaine lowered the water skin and stared intently into the flames. "I have not been Roman for years."

"Do you hold distain for your people in some way?" Kay asked.

"Let's just say that there have only been three Romans that I have ever held close to my heart. One returned to Rome to teach freewill and equality which I pray aren't wasted on the ears of the Roman people. The second, my father, who was an actual follower of the first's ideals. And the last, just walked over into the forest right there. Other than that, I can say yes, I do dislike the Roman people."

Galahad eyebrows raised and his eyes grew wide. "You do hate Romans?"

"I have seen what evil they unleashed among the free peoples of the world. The Celts, the Sarmatians, even the Britons have shared the pain under the yoke of Rome's oppression."

The men sat in silence. They all felt strongly upon this matter, and they each felt that Elaine's eloquent words summed up their feelings. 

Elaine looked around at the faces of the knights, "The last time I saw Arthur's Sarmatian knights, they were much younger, and there were many. I am sorry that you have lost so many of your companions."

A sad mood set over the group. Kay was the first to speak.

"The pendant that you wear," he said motioning towards the sliver chain attached to Elaine's neck, "Arthur recognized you when he saw it."

Elaine reached down, holding the stone in the palm of your hand, "It was a gift to my mother from her people. She gave it to me when I was very young." She smiled when she thought upon the memories that she had clung to all these years.

"A pretty jewel, for a pretty lady," Lancelot said. Elaine rolled her eyes thinking she was being teased by the man again, but was surprised when she finally looked at his expression. It was serious and honest, and his eyes held a sort of lust in them, that made the woman's heart skip in her chest. She quickly turned away, hoping that he did not see her blush.

Arthur entered into the forest quietly, searching around in the dark space for a sign of his scout. He wasn't kept waiting long, for as soon as he had begun to look for Tristan, the man himself entered into the small clearing, shoving his sword into its scabbard.

"This area is secure, but the Woads have not retreated far," Tristan said as her neared the waiting Roman. "They have set up a camp about a hundred yards to the West."

"Will they attack again?"

"There numbers have fallen, but that doesn't mean they won't make an attempt. Especially if we travel through the woods."

"Than we'll travel upon the road, take away their advantage. With the carriage, it will be slow, but the road is safer at this point."

The scout nodded in agreement. Woads were especially skilled in the art of ambush, more so in their own woodlands.

"Arthur? Why did they attack the healer?"

It took Arthur a moment to realized that he meant Elaine, and was a little taken aback at Tristan speaking of his sister in such an formal manner.

"I have not determined why they would want Elaine, but by the manner of their attack, it appears they wanted her alive. They slaughtered the caravan, but they pulled her from the carriage."

Tristan nodded once more, "But she managed to kill her attackers."

This notion struck Arthur, and he remember the Woads with the arrows buried deep in them. Elaine did that? How could she? She had never even touched a bow before in her life.

"Yes, she did."

After a full evening of laughter and continued banter between Elaine and Lancelot, the men decided to get some much needed sleep. Elaine stood with Arthur, who, after returning from his council with Tristan, was surprised to see his knights and sister sharing stories and laughter. 

"Well, it has been more than a pleasure to meet you all," Elaine said before taking Arthur's hand. She smiled at each man, than turned to join her brother in his tent. 

Once they had left, the knights began to situate themselves for the night. 

"She sure is different from Arthur," Galahad thought out loud as he laid his bedroll out before him. 

Gawain chuckled, "Thank the gods for that, or Lamorak's attraction to her would have been uncomfortable for us all."

Lamorak's head shoot up at his cousin's remark, "What attraction?"

Kay shook his head with a smile, and nudged Lancelot's arm, "Oh, come now, Lamorak. You were hanging on her lips all night. You practically begged her to let you dry her cloak out after the rains stopped."

Lamorak huffed and frowned. "You don't know what your talking about, Kay," he muttered as he plunged his wool cloak over him. His knuckles where as white as snow. 

"Poor boy," Dagonet muttered with a knowing smile, "We've lost him already."

Bors shook his half-drunken head in agreement than strongly patted the young man's shoulder. 

"It's too bad, Lamorak," Lancelot said as he watched Elaine gracefully duck into Arthur's tent, "that her own heart has been captured by another already."

Lamorak once again shot up into the air, this time accidentally punching Galahad's forehead in the process.

"Hey, you cow!"

Lamorak ignored his friend's return punch to the arm, "Who?"

"Why me, of course. She couldn't resist my charms."

Gawain shook his head, "What do you mean? The moment you opened your mouth, she couldn't stand to hear your voice."

"The two of you were at each others throat all night," Galahad chimed in, still rubbing his red forehead from before.

Lancelot ignored the men's arguments. This woman was different from any woman he had ever met before in his life. Not only was she exceptionally beautiful, but she was witty and charming at the same time. The moment she sat down next to Kay and started talking to the knights, all were instantly drawn to her kindness.

"I still do not see how she came to be with the Celts?" Bors slurred. "How did she get away from Arthur at such a young age? And why did he not tell us he had a sister to begin with?"

"She was abducted."

The knights all looked at Lancelot, shocked at his admission. "How do you know that?"

"Arthur told me, of course. It happened the night we arrived at the wall. Elaine and Arthur had arrived there for the first time that night as well. We were all in our quarters when it happened; it was late at night, maybe even in the early morning, I'm not entirely sure."

"How come we didn't meet her before the abduction?" Lamorak spoke up, completely intrigued by the tale Lancelot was about to tell.

"It caused Arthur a lot of pain. For days after, he wouldn't eat or sleep, he would only train. Remember that day he just collapsed. He told me afterwards that he worked so hard, so that he may be able to go to Elaine's rescue and smite those who had taken her from him. After a year or so, it appeared that she was truly lost. I told Arthur truthfully that she could be dead. That was also the day he punched me in the nose."

"Ha, I remember.." Bors chuckled.

"Arthur simply lived from day to day afterwards. I suppose he never wanted to burden you with his troubles, for he feared you had your own. His focus was set on his charge, and well, you know how Arthur is about his duty to Rome."

"Tell us," Kay implored.

Arthur had just finished his first day of training with his knights, and was slowly making his way back towards the chambers that he and Elaine were to share. Truly, it hadn't been a day of hard training, for he and the boys simply played together, pretending to fight with wooden swords. The Roman general that was to train them in the art of warfare, wouldn't arrive until the following day, and Arthur and his knights had already endured enough in that past day than he thought necessary. After a warm dinner that they all share together at the same table, Arthur had bid them goodnight. The boy was relieved to finally be able to rest. He hadn't seen his little sister all day, and he felt ashamed that on the first day since their mother's death, he hadn't been there to give her comfort. She was only a child, whose young mind wasn't prepared for the concept of losing both parents. Elaine probably would find it hard to understand her mother's death, because she hadn't needed to understand her father's. She was but a babe than, but she was a clever little girl now. Things would be more real to her.

As he opened the thick, wooden door that lead into his quarters, Arthur sighed in relief. He entered the large living apartment, dropping Excalibur upon the fur rug near the fire, and collapsed in the grand chair. Closing his eyes, Arthur leaned his head back and rubbed his face stiffly. 

"Elaine?" he spoke, slightly muffled through his half opened fingers. When there came no answer, Arthur sat up. She must be fast asleep?

Recalling that Elaine hadn't been at the dining hall that night, he realized that he'd better wake her and attempt to get her something to eat. That wasn't an easy task, because Elaine had always been a picky eater. 

As he entered the pitch black bedroom, it took Arthur a few moments for his eyes to fully adjust to the darkness. 

"Elaine?" he whispered.

Again, no response came. Arthur became concerned. Surely she couldn't be getting a peaceful sleep. Their mother's death would have kept the child tossing about all night, Arthur knew. Grabbing a lit lantern from the adjoining room, the boy quickly raced back to the bed, holding the light up towards the headboard. His heart stopped when he saw that the bed lay completely untouched, Elaine no where to be found.

"ELAINE!"

Arthur raced about the quarters, frantically overturning pieces of furniture and tossing items all about.

"Elaine? Where are you?"

A loud pounding came upon the heavy wood door, and Arthur jumped over a fallen side table to answer it. When he opened it he found not Elaine, but Jols, the young son of the Wall's squire.

"Sire, come quickly, there has been an intrusion inside the fortress."

"Elaine, my sister, have you seen her? Is she safe?" Arthur said firmly, as he held fast the other boys forearm.

Jols grew deadly silent, his eyes looking sadly into Arthur's. "Please sire, come."

Grabbing Excalibur from its place, the Roman and the boy ran ardently to the town square. There was a big crowd of commoners and nobles alike, circling something that Arthur couldn't see. He desperately searched the faces in the crowd for his lost sister. 

Jols took the boy's arm pulling him towards a Roman officer who stood by, questioning the people about the disturbance. "This way."

As he saw the little commander approach, the officer's eyes grew soft and a look of pity found it's way about his features. This slightly angered the young Roman. He wanted an explanation, not pity. He wanted Elaine.

"What has happened?"

"Sir, there was a loud disturbance near the south side of the wall. I responded when I heard the screams, and found the boy lying on the ground, wounded in the arm."

"Was it Woads?"

"No sire, they were different. They wore the garb of a commoner, but I just got a glance at their faces before they escaped. They were not Briton, Roman, nor Woad."

Arthur sighed. He wasn't getting anywhere with this man. "Where's the boy?"

Jols spoke up, "Back there, sire. The crowd surrounds him now."

Arthur raced into the crowd, pushing to get through. Jols demand that they disperse and make way. Arthur finally made it to the middle of the crowd and instantly saw the fallen boy, grasping his arm in pain. 

He knelt down, placing his hand upon the young boys head, "What has happened?"

The dark haired boy looked up through thick messy strands, his dark eyes filled with unshed tears. His face was filled with fear, sadness, and anger all at once. Arthur observed that the boy not only had a bad flesh wound upon his shoulder from a now missing arrow, but he appeared to have been beaten a bit; his upper lip was cut, his left cheek bruised, and his right eye was starting to swell. He held a long curved sword in his uninjured hand, which dangled at his side.

"They came so fast...I didn't..she screamed...and...I tried to fight them...she..."

The boy struggled to get words out. His chest still heaved from the encounter.

"Breathe, you must breathe."

"They took her."

Arthur froze. Not Elaine. Not Elaine.

"Who? Whom did they take?"

The boy looked him straight in the eye. "E..Elaine."

Arthur went completely limp, almost falling to his knees. He was so much affected, that even the injured boy had to hold his shoulder so the Roman would not fall backwards. How? How did this happen?

Jols broke the silence, "They must have slipped out of the gate when there was a changing of the guard."

Arthur snapped into his newfound commander tone, "When was the guard change?" he said in a firm, unemotional voice.

"Not but fifteen minutes past, sire."

"Right. Have this boy taken to the infirmary and attended to by the best healers. I want a group of officers," he turned and spoke to the older Roman who had joined them, "to ride out and capture these people. They haven't had the chance to get to far."

"Yes sire, you may ride with me if you wish."

Arthur nodded, and the crowded quickly dispersed.

"Arthur rode with the search party all night, and well into the next morning, but they never caught up with the bandits who had taken Elaine."

As Lancelot finished his story, the group intently stared into the flames, all feeling sorry for the loss the young Arthur had suffered.

"These bandits," Kay finally spoke up, "must have been Celtic."

"That is what I have determined as well, " Lancelot said as he sat back against the rock he had been leaning on.

"But why would there be Celts at Hadrian's Wall, and why would they want to take a young girl and nothing else?" Galahad questioned.

"That, my friend, is something we have yet to discover. We will need to hear it from the lips of the abducted girl herself."

"Who was the boy?" Lamorak whispered, for soon after Lancelot had finished telling about Elaine's abduction, Bors had fallen into a drunken sleep.

"What boy?"

"The one who was injured."

"Oh," Lancelot searched his memory, "Arthur later found out that it was one of his own knights who had tried to defend his sister."

Gawain looked surprised, "Who?"

Lancelot smirked, "You wouldn't believe me."

"Tell us already, you oaf." Galahad said as he threw a pebble at the knight.

Lancelot chuckled still smirking with his knowledge, "Tristan."

"WHAT!" 


	9. Rude Awakenings

Chapter 9

Rude Awakenings

Once they had entered into his small tent, Elaine quickly turned around, catching her brother off guard with a sudden embrace. Recovering from his surprise quickly, Arthur wrapped his arms around her slim waist, bring her tightly to him. The two stayed this way for a while, each savoring the presence of the other. After being separated from one another for nearly fourteen years, it was almost as though they were not truly there, that all this was all a strange dream and at any moment either one of them would awake.

Soon they released each other, and Arthur lead her over to a made bed that was to be hers for the night.

"I know that you must be very tired, but I need you to give me some answers that I've waited for so many years."

As she sat down upon the soft bed, Elaine smiled at Arthur as he sat across from her on a bed of his own. "Always so serious," she said, making her voice deep as she mocked him.

Arthur chuckled as a full smile appeared across his face. Tears came to her eyes, as she reached over and touched her brother's face softly.

"Now, there is a sight that I have waited for so long to see again."

Arthur leaned into her palm, "I have missed you so."

"And I you."

He took her hand away from his face, holding it firmly in both hands as though there was some way that she could suddenly just disappear from his life once more. She smiled lovingly at him, a long strand of her hair falling in her face as she did. Arthur reached over and placed it behind her ear once more.

"Now, please we must talk."

Elaine sighed, but her smile remained. "Ask me anything, brother."

Arthur struggled with the words he had been wanted to say all these years. "Was it the Celts? We're they the ones who abducted you that night."

Pain filled Elaine's eyes as the memory of that fateful night came soaring back into her mind. 

"Yes. And I have dwelled with them ever since."

Arthur dropped his head. He fought back tears that threatened to spill out onto the grassy floor.

"Arthur, please let me tell you."

Arthur looked up at her words. Elaine sighed preparing to unleash the truth about the life she had been living for the past fourteen years of her life.

"That night, I was taken, by force, by a Celtic man named Gaelan. He had journeyed all the way from the island of Shalott with a small troupe of men. They came to the wall because they had heard rumors that the Romans were looking to extend their empire father east, and eventually overseas. Gaelan feared that this might put his people at risk for enslavement, for as you probably know, the Celts of Shalott broke away from Ireland to retain their pagan ways."

"What has any of that got to do with this, Gaelan, simply deciding to take a six-year-old girl from her home?"

"Arthur, please."

Arthur closed his mouth, but still sighed with anger. "Forgive me."

"Gaelan had a wife back in Shalott, Isolde, who had recently lost a baby girl in child birth. She had mourned for weeks, and Gaelan feared that she may die from grief, for soon after the baby's death, she was told by the healers that she could never bare another. Now, Celts are, of course, fair in their appearances, and that goes for Isolde and Gaelan as well. But the girl that she gave birth to was special. For she had wavy raven black hair, like mine. When Gaelan saw me that night, playing around the fort, his was heart broken, for in me , he saw what would have been his own daughter. He became frantic, and asked his companions to help him. He was desperate Arthur, and his judgment was thus impaired. I cannot count how many times since that he has begged me for forgiveness."

"This man, this Celt, took you away from me," anger dripped from Arthur's words, "because the color of your hair?"

"He was in mourning Arthur. His wife had lost their only child."

"THERE IS NO EXCUSE FOR HIS ACTIONS!"

Elaine was frightened at her brother's anger, for she had never before witnessed Arthur lash out the way he was. "Arthur, please. He was so sorry. So grieved by his mistake. I forgave him, though."

Arthur froze, his pacing that he had begun when he had had his outburst was suddenly ceased. He looked down upon Elaine with unimaginable disbelief, "You forgave him? Elaine, he took you away. He stole you from your home, took you to a foreign land and..."

"And he made me his daughter."

Arthur shook his head, "You were only daughter to one father, and one mother. No one could ever erase them from your life."

"Yes, no one could ever, for I hold them locked in my heart. But Arthur, Gaelan and Isolde loved me and cared for me. They raised me, taught me their ways, their language. They educated me in many fields, taught me to defend myself, taught me so much, and gave me so much. I became a healer, and I helped others. Above all else they loved me, and I loved them."

Arthur looked deep into Elaine's pleading eyes, not completely able to believe what she had said. He knelt down to her face, and took her hands in his. After a moment, his eyes soften and she reached up once more to stroke his face. But the sweet moment passed quickly, as Arthur stood up abruptly.

"How could you love such savages?"

Elaine's eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped. Her own fury filled her quickly.

"Savages? The Celts are an educated people. They don't live in trees and prey on the souls of the innocent."

"Yes, but they steal away young girls?"

"They never harmed me in any way."

"Yes they did. Or did you not feel the pain that I felt all these years? Did you not love me as much as I loved you?

Elaine's eyes narrowed, "I told you once that my love would never falter. DO NOT TREAT ME AS THOUGHT I WERE A CHILD AGAIN, ARTHUR. I DIED THAT DAY."

Arthur's heart broke as tears streamed down her face. He felt helpless.

Elaine quickly recovered from her momentary breakdown, dried her tears and sniffed. "I am a woman now , Arthur. We have both changed."

The siblings did not look each other in the eyes as they sat in silence. So many emotions were coursing through both their bodies, but neither could speak, nor act in any way at all. Finally, Arthur began to remove his breast plate. Elaine watched as he placed his armor in a designated space near the entrance of the tent. She prayed that he would say anything at that moment, forgive her, yell at her, anything. She got her wish, but in a twisted way.

"Sleep now," he said as he laid down upon his bed roll and blowing out the lantern that had illuminated the entire tent, "we wake early tomorrow."

Elaine sat in the darkness, staring down at the back of her brother. She watched as his breathing slowed and he drifted off into sleep. Slowly, she bent down, not taking her eyes away from his sleeping form, as she removed her tiny white slippers. She finally broke her gaze when she slipped under her thin sheet, turning her back to Arthur as she laid down as well. Tears fell silently as she wept, slowly falling in a fitful sleep.

Hours later, Elaine sat up with a start. Beads of sweat covered her entire body, as she quickly pushed the covers from her, slipping into her slippers that still sat by the edge of her bed. She had nightmare. Elaine was sitting atop her horse, Luka, as she looked out over a smoke filled field. Suddenly, Arthur came into view, as did all the knights, each battling hard against a deadly enemy that she could not see. Slowly, each knight began to fall one by one, and she screamed, nudging Luka with her heels in attempt to ride to their rescue. But something was wrong. Luka was frozen, and she soon realized that she too could not move. She frantically attempted to free herself from the invisible force, but she watched in horror as she saw the last knight, one she couldn't tell the face of through the smoke, run towards her sword raised. She realized that the unknown enemy was coming towards her, and the unrecognizable knight threw his entire sword in the air, lodging it in the wailing enemy. Just when she thought the worst was over, thousands of dark, enemy arrows soared through the sky, hitting her savior with great force. She cried out, as her dream shifted slightly. Elaine found herself kneeling over the fallen body of her brother. His face was pale, blood seeping out from his lips as he spoke "Forgive me, forgive me. I love you." That is when Elaine woke up in a start.

Elaine rose from her bed, looking at Arthur's peaceful form as she draped her blue cloak about her shoulders, and slipped out of the tent's entrance. She had to get fresh air, for the tent seemed to be growing smaller and smaller, consuming her with anxiety. 

When she step outside, she was met with the sight of the sleeping knights. Carefully maneuvering over their bodies without a sound, Elaine escaped out into the forest. She had to be alone. Soon, she was sprinting through the forest, her white gown gliding about her, giving her an angelic appearance in the dark woods. Elaine ran swiftly through the trees, with the skill of a woad. 

Soon she came to a clearing and stopped dead in her tracks. Her chest rose up and down, as she caught her breathe. Looking around her, she thanked God for the beauty and security of this small sanctuary. Elaine slowly paced around the clearing, closing her eyes when she finally stopped, and wrapping her arms about her. She sighed to herself as she enjoyed the night breeze, but still remained alert, listening for any disturbances. Gaelan had taught her how to listen to the silence. As silly as it may have sounded, Elaine knew he was right, for when you give yourself completely to the silence, you can hear everything. That was, of course, disturbances in the natural noises of the world.

"You shouldn't be out hear."

Elaine yelped as she spun around. She saw the dark scout from before, enter into the clearly, and was shocked that he hadn't made a sound.

"You frightened me!"

The dark knight chuckled, though his placid face did not change. "Well if you weren't lurking around here, I wouldn't have."

Elaine's face became puzzled. "What are you doing out here? Don't you sleep?"

"I'm keeping watch."

"All night?"

"Probably."

"But won't you be exhausted in the morning?"

"No."

"How?"

The scout grunted exasperatingly as he strode over to the woman, who back away in fear, "Do you always ask this many questions?"

Elaine swallowed, desperately trying to regain her composure. "Yes, if the person I'm engaging in conversation with insists on speaking with single word sentences."

The man smirked, "I don't have conversations."

"Than what are we doing now?" Elaine said with a cunning smile. The knight huffed, as he turned away, taking a long knife out, and cutting into a large red apple.

"What is your name?"

The man looked up from his apple, "You know my name."

Elaine studied the man completely puzzled, than it hit her.

"Tristan?"

Tristan didn't respond, but she didn't need him to either. He looked back down at his apple, carving thick wedges from the fruit.

Elaine walked over to where Tristan now sat upon a small rock, and she sat down beside him. Suddenly, Tristan felt extremely uncomfortable, and ultimately regretted coming to her in the first place. But he had seen her leave Arthur's tent, and followed her quickly as she ran into the forest. He couldn't let anything happen to her. For Arthur's sake, of course.

"I do remember your name, Tristan. And I remember the boy I meet, years ago . The night Arthur and I came to the wall. The night..."

"The night you were abducted."

Elaine frowned, "Yes. I remember we met that day in the stables, and that we spent the rest of the evening together, sharing stories," Elaine chuckled, "eating apples."

Tristan gave Elaine a wedge, which she took from him thankfully. He acted as though he had done nothing at all, and continued to look uninterested in her retelling of the story he had replayed in his mind a thousand times before.

"When the Celts snuck up behind us, in the stables, we were both taken by surprise. You leapt forth as they grabbed me away, and you stabbed one in the arm. He began to beat you, but you still fought so bravely. They finally had to injure you with an arrow to stop your attacks."

Elaine stared at Tristan, searching his face for a sign, any sign that he remembered. 

"I never got to thank you," she said, placing her soft hand upon his gloved one. Tristan froze at her warm contact, staring down at her small hand against his large, slender one. He swallowed hard before he could speak.

"Right," he said emotionlessly, as he stood. As he did, he slipped a fresh apple in the hand that Elaine had previously rested on his.

She sighed, secretly disappoint at Tristan's behavior. Things certainly had changed. Even the boy who she had dreamt about for so many years. Now, he was a man that she hardly recognized.

As she stood, looking down at the apple in her hand, Tristan spoke, his back towards her.

"You killed ten Woads today."

Elaine heart raced with the sudden nervousness that came upon her. Where was he going with this?

"You put in arrow into them, one by one. Woads are exceptional marksmen, and they are even better when their in their element. How did you manage to kill each without the others ambushing as you did."

Elaine searched for an acceptable answer to give that would end the scouts interrogation.

"I didn't kill but one, and that...that was an accident. I do...don't know about the others." Elaine mentally kicked herself for her foolish attempt.

The scout still stood, his back towards Elaine. "And when I came across you, you detected my presence, and almost put in arrow in me."

"Listen, Tristan...today was nothin..."

Without warning, the knight swiftly turned, a small dagger flying from his hand and directly toward Elaine's heart. Out of instinct, Elaine swooped her arm around, catching the dagger as it lodged into the apple she still held. She looked down at the pierced apple, than towards the knight in disbelief.

Tristan only smirked, "Just as I thought."

Elaine's eyes raged with fury as she sent the apple directly at Triatan's head, which he caught, pulled out the dagger, and biting into it.

"You bastard !"

"You've been trained to fi..."

"No! You tricked me."

"I was only trying to discover the truth."

"Oh, and what if I wasn't able? Hmm? Than what?"

"I took a chance."

"You are a bastard!"

"So I've heard."

Elaine stared at Tristan, before she fled back towards the campsite, leaving him. As she made her way back through the woods, tears fell mercilessly down her cheeks. God, how she hated him

Tristan sighed. He'd noticed the tears forming in her eyes right before she left him there alone. What was wrong with him? Why was he such an animal?

He rubbed his eyes, trying to erase the image of her fleeing white form from his mind. Gods, this woman was having an undesired effect over the scout. She had just appeared from thin air, back into his life, and in a matter of hours had managed to turn his usual calm self into an emotional mess. 

Gods, how he hated her. 


	10. The Morning After

Chapter 10

The Morning After

The early morning sun shone brightly through the open flap of the tent, a chill in the air, as Arthur gradually opened his eyes. Unable to move, for it always took him a while to register in his mind exactly where he was that morning, the Roman gazed straight up at the pointed tent ceiling, beams of light coming through tiny holes that had appeared in the strong material over time. Suddenly, like the whole breadth of Hadrian's wall had tumbled down on top of him, the memory of the previous night hit Arthur, and he groaned, closing his eyes once again. He couldn't believe the way he had acted; he had yelled and berated Elaine as if she were a common peasant. 'Wonderful, Arthur,' he thought to himself as he rolled over on his side, clutching his head in his hands. 'She has finally returned, and you insult her. Way to rebuild sibling ties.'

Groaning once more, he looked over at Elaine's bed and noticed that she wasn't there. Her sheets had been pulled back, her cloak and slippers missing from their spot, and, as his eyes followed her supposed path, he noticed the tent flap was thrown open. 

Sitting up, he closed his eyes. "Oh dear God, I beg you to give me patience, and to forgive me for my actions towards Elaine. Fill her with your forgiveness, so that she may look upon this wretched soul with kind eyes once more."

"Now, wouldn't you rather be waking up to a pretty wench than with your God?"

Arthur turned as Lancelot poked his head into the tent, before entering and sitting upon Elaine's bed.

"Why must you always question my faith?"

"Because, Arthur. Your faith is a waste of your time. While you sit in here praying, Elaine sits alone sulking in her carriage."

Arthur's head shot up towards Lancelot, causing the knight to smile. "You two must have had a pretty heated conversation last night."

"Is she alright?"

Lancelot shook his head as he looked about the tent, gently stroking the soft sheets of Elaine's bed with his outstretched palms, enjoying the flowery scent of the frustrating woman that still remained.

"She was already awake when we got up this morning, collecting kindling for the embers of the fire. It looked like she had been keeping the fire for quite a while. Nice of her, wasn't it?"

Arthur sighed, standing up so that could he begin to dress for the day.

"Has she had anything to eat yet?"

"Actually, she had collected a surprising amount of berries from the woods for us. She made a sort of sweet soup with it," Lancelot chuckled, "Lamorak had at least four bowls. You should watch out for that one. We wouldn't want the enchanting lady's heart to be stolen by one so, inexperienced."

Arthur stopped, arm grieves held up above his wrist midair, and glared at Lancelot with a gaze that could kill an ox, but was ignored by the knight, who smirked looking down upon Elaine's bed. 

"Perhaps I should be watching out for you and not Lamorak."

Lancelot laughed hard at his friend's threat, not taking it seriously in the least bit, which enraged Arthur even more. The knight didn't respond, but only looked back at the bed with a gleam in his eyes.

"Lancelot."

The knight finally stood, "Get dressed, Arthur. " He clapped the Roman's shoulder and gave another hearty laugh as he exited the tent. Arthur sighed. How he was to separate his brother in arms from his sister by blood was going to be a problem.

"Hey, ready to go out again, hmm?"

Tristan caressed the beautiful feathers of his hawk, before lifting his arm up as he took flight. The majestic bird screeched, soaring up towards the heavens and disappearing through the canopy of the forest. Tristan watched until the bird was out of sight, before he nudged his gray steed towards the camp. Soon he was racing with great speed. His long braids flapped against his face, brushing his tattooed cheeks before being picked up by the wind once again. As he burst through the tree and into the camp, Galahad jumped a mile, frightened by the scouts sudden appearance.

"Damn, Tristan."

The scout smirked with accomplishment as he swiftly dismounted. He had always enjoyed picking on the two youngest knights in his own way, which usually meant either humiliating them or frightening them to death. Galahad was especially oversensitive about being made a fool of, which of course was perfect for Tristan. 

"Where you bin all night, eh scout?" Bors asked the scout as he packed up his supplies.

"Scouting."

Dagonet chuckled as Bors frowned.

"Ass," he murmured.

Tristan wandered over to where Lamorak was collecting the bowls and pots that the knights used when they could catch some sort of game while on a mission. He passed the young man, nodding as he did, than searched about, lifting the pot lid and smelling its contents. 

"What the hell is this?" he looked down at the blue broth with disgust.

Lamorak turned ignorantly towards Tristan, than down at the pot. "Berries."

"Where's the meat?"

"There is none. We had the berry soup for breakfast, while you were still out," Lamorak said, crossing back towards the horses. "Elaine made it, said it was better for us than meat. It's actually good, Tristan."

Tristan huffed out air from his chest in annoyance, as he sat down, dropping the lid. "Women."

Elaine sat upon her hunches inside the carriage that she had journeyed in from the British shores to its mainland. Her hands drifted over the various bottles and bags of herbs and oils that she had taken out from their crates, laying them out upon the carriage floor. Elaine skimmed over each label that contained the medicine's name written in elaborate Celtic texts. Rosemary. Burdock Root. Cardamom Pods. Sage. Chamomile Oil.

Making note of what she had, and what she might need, in her memory, Elaine expertly began to slip her stock back into its crate, categorizing each by first importance, than substance, and finally by size. Of course, Elaine didn't truly need to do this. After she had left Tristan, Elaine had tried to sleep again in Arthur's tent, but she was still so worked up from her encounter with the infuriating scout, that she had risen once again. She spent the first half of the early morning, before the sun rose, brushing Luka and cleaning her saddle, restringing her bow, and replenishing her quiver with burrowed arrows from the knights. After a while, she watched the knights sleep, bringing extra blankets when they stirred, and rekindling the fire. Than she made them breakfast, and after making sure that they were satisfied, she had spent the rest of the morning organizing and reorganizing her healing tools. 

She paused and sighed exasperatedly, "I've gone mad."

Carelessly tossing the remaining herbs back into the crate and slamming down the lid, Elaine dropped back down upon a soft fur, groaning when her shoulder blade crashed into a sharp object. She lifted, annoyed, reaching behind her to find the cause of her sudden pain. It was one of her long knifes. With a slender hilt and slightly curved blade, the weapon was light for a lady, etched with gold Celtic inscriptions down to the point. It's twin was exactly the same. They were not the usual type of weapon, especially on this island, because it was smaller than a sword, but the blade extended from about the same length of her elbow right down to her middle knuckle. Elaine just found it easier than a sword, though she possessed one of those as well.

As she examined the knife, the memory of the night before came crashing down upon her, like a wave on the shore. Her grip on the hilt tightened as she remember her confrontation with Tristan and its abrupt ending. What a fool she had been, to open her heart like that? But had she truly expected him to be as he was when he was a child. Yet, when he had given her that 'test', she instantly loathed the crass man. Anger filled her once again, so much so that she sat up and threw the knife. It soared through the air, at great speed, before it embedded itself into the post in the front of the carriage, near its entrance.

Seconds after the knife had hit the post, Arthur's head appeared in the door way. Elaine's eyes grew large, as she prayed that her brother would notice the knife.

"Elaine, we leave in a few moments," he said crawling in closer to her, apparently not seeing the knife.

"Oh," she said, a tension enter the carriage as she remember their encounter as well, "alright. I am prepared."

Elaine turned her back on Arthur as she began to stuff clothing into her brown sack. The way she brushed him off deeply hurt Arthur. He neared her, his chest practically touching her shoulders.

"Forgive me," he whispered softly.

His sister froze in her movements, as her own heart broke into a thousand pieces. 'I am no better than a Woad,' she thought. 'How could I be so cruel?'

Elaine turned, sadness in her face. "Oh Arthur," she said she took his face in her hands, gently stroking his cheeks, his stubble making tiny scratches on her skin. "There is nothing to forgive."

His smile returned hers as he bent down, and placed a sweet kiss on her forehead. He couldn't bare to have her angry with him. His life hadn't felt complete for so many years, and only yesterday, was the void finally filled.

Elaine chuckled, pushing Arthur back a little, "Now go, I must change."

"Into what?" he said, nudging her back in a childish manner.

She smiled at him, "You brute! Into my riding pants."

"Pants! I've never seen you wear pants."

"Well, I do when I ride."

"Humph," he said itching his nose, "I still can't believe you can even mount a horse."

"Arthur! I've know who to ride since I was seven."

"And that horse, I'm afraid, is a little to strong for you. He might throw you."

"Ahh! You've grown into a brute!"

"Ahh, and you've grown into a Woad."

Elaine frowned and pinched Arthur's arms, "OWWW!"

"Take that back, brute!"

"No."

"Take it back."

"Fine, you're not a woad. You're a Sarmatian."

The woman yelped as she grabbed Arthur's earlobe, tugging with a gentle force.

"AHHH, WOMAN!"

She finally released him, falling back in laughter when Arthur's lower lip stuck up in a childish way, as he rubbed his soar earlobe.

"What's wrong with being Sarmatian?" Gawain called from outside. Elaine shot up, realizing that their whole banter had been heard outside the carriage. Arthur laughed heartily.

"Nothing," Bors replied, "unless you're a Sarmatian woman. MOOOOOOOOO!"

"Bors! That's terrible!" Elaine called back, despite her laughter.

Still smiling, Arthur stood and made his way out of the carriage, "Make haste, little Woad."

Elaine stuck out her tongue as her brother chuckled and turned to the entrance. His eyes were quickly met by the sight of the unusual knife embedded into the wooden post. He reached forward with curiosity, pulling the knife from the wood, and examining the blade. Elaine's smile fell as Arthur looked over the knife and over the hole that it had put into the post. 

"How'd this get like that?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it was the Woads."

Arthur nodded, not truly believing her, for he had seen the inside of the carriage after the attack. This blade hadn't been that way. But perhaps he hadn't noticed it.

"Well," he said, tossing the knife in front of Elaine's feet, "if it's from the Woads, than you can keep it. Since you have become one."

Elaine smiled as he left, but quickly punched the carriage floor with her fist. She was such a fool. 


	11. Woman Among Knights

Chapter 11

A Woman Among Knights

Ten riders rode gradually along the long, narrow road that lead west. Each swayed in their saddle as they made their way over hill and plain, through streams and underbrush. The sun was now directly above them in the sky, which was a rare occurrence in Briton. Yet, to the south, gray clouds were moving in fast, threaten to cast out the light. The air smelled musky like rain, despite the sun's obvious presence.

Kay looked back towards the knights, and Elaine, who rode upon her bright white steed, clad in a tight pair of pants and a loose tunic. Her long brown tresses were tied back with a piece of leather, but a few strands had managed to fall forward into her face.

"Kay, you look as though you've never seen a woman ride a horse before," Elaine called forward, catching the man before he could avert his eyes elsewhere.

Smiling, Kay said, "At least not in pants."

The group, Arthur included laughed when Elaine shook her head. Galahad rode up alongside the lady, leaving his spot next to Tritan.

"Your horse, Elaine, is a beautiful creature. Strong, but graceful. He'd make a good war horse."

Elaine suddenly looked nervous, but quickly recovered before Galahad could notice, "Oh, Luka, he's as simple as his master." 

Gawain spoke up as he came up on the other side, "Nonsense. Your, Luka, is of a good breed."

"Do not listen, Luka," she said, leaning over towards the horses ears. His white ears perked up at his master's voice, as if he were awaiting for a command. "Kela na sinome, Luka. Ona ta dina dengina Lancelot."

At hearing his name among the Celtic language she spoke, Lancelot turned around atop his black steed. 

"What did you say?" Lamorak called out from behind Tristan.

"I simply told Luka that he shouldn't take such flattery serious, or he would get a self-admiring character, much like our Sir Lancelot."

Gawain burst, falling forward in his saddle, "AHH!"

Lancelot, actually embarrassed by this jab at him, reared his horse around, trotting it beside Elaine. He stared into her eyes intently, causing Elaine to turn away.

"My lady, your mouth is as quick as it is alluring."

Arthur turned around in his saddle, sending a death glare at his best friend. "One more word out of your mouth, Lancelot, and I'll cut out your tongue.

The laughter was so great, that Tristan feared the noise would alert a Woad miles back of their presence. He let out a sighed, looking down at his hands. The scout hadn't realized that his knuckles were white as they held onto the reins. He looked back at the scene he had been eagerly watching, in a very nonchalant manner. Elaine was blushing under Lancelot's lustful gaze. Clearly, she wasn't used to such a audacious man, and she certainly hadn't seen the worst. If Lancelot laid a finger on her, Tristan would put in arrow in his back. He noticed that his hand already resided over his bow. She wasn't a wench. 

Than the rains came. Elaine shrieked, unprepared for the abrupt down pour. Suddenly, she was sheltered from the rain. Looking up into Lancelot's face, she saw a genuine concern in his faced that shocked her, as he held his unfastened cloak over her head. Hadn't this man just teased her in a crass way, not but moments ago?

"You'd better go into the carriage," he shouted over the rain, "we don't want our healer to catch her death. Don't worry, I'll take your Luka."

Suddenly speechless because of Lancelot's sudden kindness and utter chivalry, Elaine could only nod as she jumped off Luka, and raced in between the knight's horses, back towards the carriage. Lamorak had guided the large carriage steeds atop his own horse. Steps away from the carriage door, Elaine lost her footing, slipping in the mud. But before she fell forward into the filth, a strong arm wrapped around her waist from behind, pulling her swiftly from the ground. Expecting to see Lancelot's or Arthur's face, Elaine was startled when she looked up into the somber eyes of the scout. Tristan was standing before her, holding her in his firm arms, and for a moment, Elaine thought he would kiss her. His face was stoic, dark, yet his eyes told a different tale; they were tender, looking down upon her plump wet lips, than eagerly back into her eyes. In that moment, Elaine wanted him to kiss her, to take her lips in his own, claim her as his alone. Her heart pounded so hard against her chest, and Tristan was so close, that she knew that he felt it. 'Oh God, let him kiss me.'

But Tristan relinquished his hold on Elaine's waist, his voice showing no signs of emotion, "Go, get in the carriage."

He left her standing there, wandering back over to his waiting steed. Tristan mounted his horse, joining the other knights beside him, as he desperately tried to calm his trembling hands.

Elaine sat in the warm comfort of her carriage, clutching a large fur around her still wet shoulders. Her thoughts were on Tristan and the scene that had occurred between them less than an hour ago. So deep in thought, Elaine didn't notice Lamorak enter into the carriage until he spoke.

"Are you comfortable?"

She beamed up at the knight, beckoning for him to join her. Lamorak eagerly sat upon a fur to the right of Elaine. She smiled, for she had grown so fond of the young man. In her heart, she loved him already. Staring over Lamorak, she tried to memorize his every feature. He had broad shoulders that extended down to a lean middle. His hair was a chestnut color, and was straight and soft, falling just below his ears in wisps. He had a hairy beard, much like Galahads, but unlike him, Lamorak kept his trimmed short. He was a very handsome man at only twenty-two years, a year older than herself. His blue-green eyes, gave him a kind child-like complexion, although she knew from his build that he must have been a fierce fighter.

"Lamorak?"

"Yes?"

"Why is Tristan so, so reserved? He barely joins in with the other men."

Lamorak looked slightly disappointed that the scout had been mentioned, but answered the lady's question nonetheless . "He has always possessed a sort of quite, calm way about him. But do not let that trick you, for he is ruthless when it comes to fighting. He fights like, like an animal."

"An animal?"

"Yes, completely swift and deadly. It's disturbing actually. I think he enjoys killing."

"What?"

"I've seen his face before, during, and after each battle. Before and after, he is simply Tristan, calm and expressionless. But during a battle, his eyes fill with this passionate pleasure, and he looks satisfied. I think he longs for battle. He craves it."

Elaine's head pounded with confusion. She just couldn't make sense of anything.

"Are you hungry?" Lamorak inquired, swiftly changing the topic of conversation.

She smiled, "No, but thank you Lamorak."

Lamorak smiled as Elaine reached down and took his hand in thanks.

"WOADS!"

Lamorak shot up, grabbing his sword from his side, "Stay here."

The instant Lamorak stepped out from the carriage, an arrow whizzed over his head , striking the wooden carriage. He spotted the marksmen just a yard away, and launched his entire sword into the woads chest. Lamorak swiftly ran to his side, carelessly pulling the blade from his dead enemy, before turning to join his fellow knights.

A small band of Woads were descending down a hill, out of the dark timberland. Tristan fried arrow after arrow into the charging woads, before he jumped down to shot from the ground safely. Arthur yelled as he tackled a large woad, running him completely through with Excalibur, before he turned to join Lancelot. Lancelot, after nearly splitting a man in two as he crossed his twin blades over his stomach, ran over towards the carriage. The small band of woads were nearly entirely wiped out, as the remaining knights wandered towards the carriage with Arthur and Lancelot. Tristan paused on his way over, sensing something was wrong. He quickly turned around just in time to she a woad drag Elaine away in the other direction, a dagger held to her throat.

"Let her go!" the scout yelled, aiming his arrow at the man, alerting the other men in the process. Arthur raced to his side, pointing Excalibur in front of him.

"Release her, or die."

The woad glared at the commander over Elaine's shoulder, before speaking broken pieces of a language that was not his own.

"She go to Merlin, take her, live or dead. You choice!"

"No, we'll take her," Lancelot said from behind Arthur, "and we'll just kill you. Sound better?"

The woad tightened his hold on Elaine, causing the dagger he still held to press down on her throat. Painful pressure made her yelp, but also made anger boil in her veins.

"She go."

Elaine had quite enough. She turned back to the knights, slightly angered at their hesitation. If they didn't act soon than she would have to and that was not what she wanted to do in the least bit. 

"Let her go, now!" Bors yelled. All the knights wanted to move, but none wanted the woad to even flinch, for fear that he might harm Elaine in the process.

Tristan inched forward, but he knew that the woad would act if he got to close. Elaine, turning her gaze from the other knights to the scout, stared pleadingly, secretly begging the man to do something. But he couldn't. Tristan stared right back into her deep brown eyes, silently communicating his sorry without even a single sound.

Elaine sighed. "Well," she said against the woad's grip, "if you're just going to stand there, you leave me no choice."

Before her brother could even begin to frown in confusion about her words, Elaine's hands, which had rested tightly against her thighs, moved, uncovering two long and unusual knifes. Carefully hidden behind her forearms and pressed against her dress, the woad hadn't know that the lady carried the blades. Not until they lay, plunged deep in both his thighs. Wailing in agony, the woad dropped to his knees, and Elaine swirled around, slicing his throat, thus cutting the wail short. A second woad, hearing his brother's screams, came running out from his hiding spot in the woods. He cried out, charging towards Elaine with sword raised high above his head. Elaine turned to the knights for a quick annoyed look, before she hurled one of her blades at great speed, into the head of the woad. Again, a woad cry was cut quickly short, by the agile movements of the lady they had tried to capture. 

Elaine stood above the body of the first woad, panting from the excursion, as well as excitement. It always took her a couple of moments to compose herself after a kill, not that she killed this way so much, but it was her duty before. A duty to her people; one that every man, and woman vowed to keep.

The men stood stunned, weapons at there sides, staring at the lady they had just started to get to know. The lady whom they rescued, the one who repaid them with a meal, the one who was Arthur's one blood, and thus almost instantly had gained some respect and trust from them. Did she just kill?

Tristan moved closer to the lady. Brushing beside her gently, he examined each woad carefully, as if he were judging her work. He knew she had been trained from his little test the night before, he just didn't sense how well she actually was. He turned, looking in Elaine's downcast face, and sighed. This would be a problem in the future he was sure. And one he'd have to worry about from then until that point in time.

Arthur, the most stunned of all the men, couldn't move, couldn't even breathe. For after years and years of longing for that tiny, innocent girl that he had lost to some bandit the same day he had lost his last parent, he finally was brought back down to reality. He was such a fool. How could he not think that Elaine would not have been affected in any way by living nearly fourteen years with the Celts.

"Arthur?" Lancelot said. He too was shocked, but still could bare to tear his eyes away from the scene before him.

Arthur was jolted back into the present by his knight's voice, but failed to be able to look away from his sister. "Right, we must be going."

Elaine turned back to the knights, and followed Arthur. "Arthur? Arthur, please look at me."

The Roman continued to his horse, ignoring the tearful pleas of his sister.

"Arthur, please let me explain."

No longer able to ignore her appeals, Arthur responded, "Back to the carriage, my lady."

The coldness in his voice and the emotionless light in his eyes made Elaine choked on a sob. Not willing to weep in front of the men, Elaine held her trembling hands to her mouth, dropping the bloodied knives at her brothers feet, and dashing back to the carriage. She slammed into Dagonet's giant chest, another sob erupting from her. He looked down upon the poor girl with benevolent eyes, as he steadied her by the shoulders.

"Forgive me," she whispered, not meeting the knights eyes, before she ducked into the carriage and out of sight. Lamorak naturally concerned, tried to follow Elaine into the carriage, but was stopped by Gawain's strong hand.

"No, cousin. Let her be."

"Gawain," Lamorak said with annoyance in his voice, "Let me pass, she needs comfort."

"Not by you."

"Don't be a fool, Gawain."

Gawain pushed hard on the younger man's chest, "Stay, you'll only make it worse for her if you come barging in. She needs some time alone. If you care even a little, you'll grant her space."

Lamorak lamented over his cousin's words of truth, but slowly retreated back to his horse.

Lancelot and Kay stood by their leader, both staring down at the abandoned knives at Arthur's feet. The three of them had been best friends since the day they met. Although it seemed that Lancelot and Arthur had a slightly stronger connection, Kay was held high in both the other's hearts. Each man knew the other better than they knew themselves. 

Lancelot finally broke the silence, walking up towards Arthur's face, before turning towards his horse.

"Remind me never to get behind the dagger of woad, for fear of your wrath, hmm?"

Hearing the disdain and disrespect in Lancelot's voice, Arthur's anger and shame only grew. "We ride through the night, and arrive at the Wall in the morning," he shouted out to his men.

Kay sighed, "Arthur, go to her."

Arthur shook his head, turning back to his off-white steed, and placing Excalibur in it's ornate sheath.

"She deceived me, Kay."

Kay scoffed at the foolish comment. "Arthur, she obviously feared your response, which evidently she was correct about."

"She could have told me."

"And how would you have responded Arthur, hmm? You would have turned stoned face once again, and cast her down as if she were a nothing but a common wench."

"I...but she fights."

"Yes, and what exactly is wrong about that? I'd consider it a blessing that she can defend herself against such attacks."

Arthur acknowledged that truth, but still wasn't sure.

"She is so changed, Kay. She isn't the little girl, but a woman."

"Yes Arthur," Kay said softer, placing a hand on his friends shoulder, "but so have you. Let some time pass, and you will see that she is still much the same, only...better."

Arthur smiled despite himself, as he remembered their childish exchange before in her carriage.

"You are right Kay. Oh God! I am such a fool."

"No, my friend. You're just an older brother." 


	12. Midnight Comfort

This was one of my favorite chapters so far, and I hope you all enjoy it as well!

Thanks for the reviews. If anyone has any other comments, likes, dislikes, or suggestions please feel free to voice them. I appreciate everything.

Chapter 12

Midnight Comfort

Night quickly approached, and as the rains receded, pitch black darkness engulfed the band of weary riders as they made their way back to the West. Upon Arthur's command, the Sarmatian Knights rode alert and ready all through the night. Galahad and Lamorak carefully guarded the carriage from the rear, Dagonet and Bors from the front, Kay and Tristan from the left and right sides, while Lancelot and Gawain rode with Arthur who lead them all. Moonlight filter down upon the road, through the passing clouds, giving the knights just enough illumination to guide the carriage safely down the road. All wanted there to be no chance at all on another woad attempt to take the lady that remained in the carriage walls.

Bors had been quietly thinking about the past two days. "I don't think I have ever seen a woman move that fast. Those blue demons never had a chance. One moment their standing, than the next they're flat on their backs."

"Lady Elaine has surprised us all," Dagonet said, looking about the left side to nod at Kay.

"Yeah, but she did it with a knife. A knife!"

Dagonet chuckled softly at Bors exclamation. Clearly, his friend still had a lot of shock left in him from the sight of seeing a fair maiden take down two fierce savages in a matter of seconds.

"Humph, sort of reminds me of Van," Bors though out loud.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, both are absolutely mad for one thing," Bors said rather loudly, bursting into a hard guffaw, before he turned more sincere, "And both a brave, fiery women, who deserve the world and more."

Dagonet smiled at his friends kind words. "It seems the lady has captured the heart of another Knight."

"Oh, but she has the poor little Lamorak, WRAPPED AROUND HER TINY LITTLE FINGER!" Bors said the last bit louder so that the younger knights would hear him.

Lamorak's head popped out from behind the carriage, "Bors, one more word and Vanora will have lost the father to her bastards. Not that she'd have to grief to long, for I'm sure Lancelot would be kind enough to give her comfort."

Lancelot turned back, "Like I have so many, many times before."

The group erupted in laughter, while Bors's face went hard. "Bastards," he mumbled.

Although she had heard the men's voices throughout the night, Elaine didn't bother to listen. She couldn't even lift her head that had laid buried in the same silk pillow as it had when she had hurried into the wagon. Dried up streaks that ran down her cheeks, made her face feel dirty, and the pillow, completely damp by those fallen tears, caused a further irritation to her skin. Her palms ached, and Elaine looked down, realizing that she had been tightly clutching her mother's pendant. An imprint of the stone in her right hand throbbed when she practically peeled the necklace from her skin. But she couldn't feel the pain, for she was still numb from Arthur's reaction.

'Why did I do such a brainless thing?" she silently thought to herself. 'Now I have lost him. How could he trust me ever again?'

New tears threatened to spill from her red, swollen lids, and though she tried hard with the small remaining strength she still had, they did come forth. Burrowing deeply between her furs, Elaine sobbed loudly, knowing that they could only be heard through the muffle of the skins if someone listened carefully. 'God, help me. Please, show Arthur my love for him, show him my regret, and I will do anything that you ask of me. And if you decided, that mercy shall not be bestowed down upon me, I pray that you forgive Arthur, for he truly has every right not to forgive me. Oh lord in heaven, bless him.'

"SQUAK!"

Elaine gasped as she yanked her head up from the sheets, to see that a creature had flapped into the entrance at the right of the carriage. Pulling a dagger from atop a wooden crate beside her, Elaine prepared from any attack the creature might commit. A tiny head popped up from the sheets, darted right and left, before it hopped in closer to the lady. It was a hawk, a beautiful hawk.

Placing the dagger down, Elaine stared in shock that such a majestic creature would just hobble into her carriage. The hawk squawked quieter than before, coming closer to the woman, as if it was waiting for her to accept something from him.

"Where did you come from?" Elaine whispered in a sweet soothing voice. She reached forward carefully. The bird froze, unsure of the woman's intentions at first, but miraculously, it hopped forward after a moment of staring her down, and moved into her soft touch. Elaine laughed gently in surprise.

"What a beautiful creature you are."

Elaine stroked the birds feathers, giggling when the hawk squawked in what sounded like pleasure. Than, as if it remember its purpose there in the carriage, the bird moved swiftly away from Elaine's warm touch, and jumped up to the crate that held the dagger from before. Elaine smiled, until she noticed that the hawk held something tightly in it's claw. Before she could look closer, she was startled when the bird squawked again, dropping the object in her lap, than soaring out of the carriage entrance in a flash. Elaine looked at the now closed flaps of the entrance in absolute wonderment. Had that just happened? Remembering the object, Elaine shook her head than looked down at her lap. There against her crisp white chemise, lay a radiant, deep red rose. Elaine gasped. Such a flower was not any easy find. One had to go deep into the forests, in the hopes that maybe they would come by a briar. This rose was exceptionally perfect.

"I receive a rose," Elaine wonder out loud, holding the stem in her hand, "from a hawk, who flew into my carriage, in the middle of the night? I am going mad.

It was than that Elaine noticed that the thorns that should have run up and down the dark green stem of the rose, where not there. Someone, or something had removed each individual thorn, carefully before the hawk arrived.

Silently laying back down upon her furs, Elaine brought the rose up to her face. As she drifted of to sleep, images of the hawk and the rose swirled in her mind. The lady received the comfort she needed that night not from her brother's forgiving embrace, not from God's good grace, but from the red rose that she clutched to her all night long.


	13. Another Brick in the Wall

Sorry for the amount of time it took for me to update. I will be starting my freshman year at college this fall, so I've been busy. I promise to keep up though.

Please, Review! I'm starting to realize that I absolutely am obessed with anything you all have to say about the story or me. I live for them, haha. Well not that extreme.

Enjoy!

Chapter 13

Another Brick in the Wall

"Elaine?"

A soft voice awoke Elaine from her delicate slumber. Her lashes fluttered gently, as her view came into focus. Gawain loomed over, his long, tangled strands hanging down above, nearly brushing her rosy cheeks. She smiled and yawned.

Gawain chuckled and slowly back away, "I see you've sleep well."

Elaine giggled, "Yes, thank God."

"Oh, no. None of that God stuff around me, now. I've only come in to help you prepare for our entrance into the Wall."

Upon hearing the word wall, Elaine shot straight out of bed, nearly colliding with the young knight, who cast his eyes away from her.

"Forgive me, I did not know I was intruding."

Elaine looked at the knight puzzled, before she looked down and realized she was still in her silk chemise from the night before. Her cheeks became flushed, as she quickly reached behind Gawain, and grabbed her blue cloak from where it lay.

"Oh, Gawain. I am sorry."

Gawain turned back around when he sensed that it was safe to, and smiled nervously. "Arthur would have my head, if he knew."

Elaine smiled slyly, "Than I guess we won't tell him than will we." She spoke in a soft, sultry voice, but Gawain saw the laughter in her eyes.

Both erupted into fits of giggles. "You're going to be the death of me, woman."

Gawain than grew serious. He looked down at Elaine. "Arthur wasn't himself yesterday. He was just taken by surprise, as were we all."

Elaine smiled faintly, "I know, Gawain. Thank you."

The knight returned her smile than moved towards the entrance of the carriage, "We arrive at the Wall shortly, be ready."

As the giant Wall began to come into view, each knight heaved a sigh of relief. They had made it back safely, yet again, with no losses whatsoever. Of course, that wasn't always the case; many times the Sarmatian knights had returned to Hadrian's Wall with dwindled numbers. So many had been lost to this foreign cause, that each was bound to. If only their forefathers knew what kind of life they had sworn their descendants to, would they have acted as they had?

"Finally, we can get some peace," Kay said as they came closer to the fortress.

"Peace?" Galahad said, looking Kay with a skeptical look, "Since when have we ever know peace in these past fourteen years. Or do you define peace as risking your life, slaying savage woads, and battling day after day?"

Tristan looked to the young man, huffed, than looked back towards Arthur, who was rearing his horse back towards the carriage. "Depends on who you're talking to, boy."

The knights chuckled. Galahad glared at the scout, trying but ultimately failing to stir some form of intimidation in the man. You simply could not intimidate Tristan.

"Only you, I suppose. Tristan lives for the fight."

"Yeah, yeah."

The sun was hot on their backs, as the rains from the previous day had all but disappeared. It was one of those rare days in Briton, where it was absolutely stifling. Tristan wiped the sweat off his brow as he let lose the hawk that had resided on his arm. The bird soared through the air, screeching as it went back towards the east. The scout followed it's trial with his eyes, turning in his saddle so he could see. His view moved back toward the direction of the carriage, and stopped when he saw Elaine's head appear out of the entrance. Her hair fell down her shoulders, as her eyes searched the skies for his hawk. Tristan simply stared at her. She frowned, and as she made to reenter the carriage, she caught Tristan's stare. She returned his gaze, and the two simply looked at each other. Soon Tristan became aware of another pair of eyes, and turned to see Kay glaring at him. His stern face seemed to warn Tristan. The scout took no heed to his frown as he turned back to the road again.

Lancelot had seen Elaine stick her head out of the carriage, but hadn't been keen enough to look in the direction to which she stared. He hadn't witnessed the intense stare between the lady and the scout. A smirk appeared upon his face.

"What is your problem?" Bors said, noticing the knight's face.

"Oh, nothing really. I've just had made a little decision concerning our fair maiden."

Lamorak shot an deadly glance at the suave knight, "And what might that be?"

"I have decided to woo the young lady. She'll need a strong man to protect her from the brutes at the wall, like yourselves."

Kay whipped around to look at Lancelot's face, and after determining that the knight wasn't joking, he said, "Lancelot, she's Arthur's sister."

Tristan knuckles grew white as he heard Lancelot's words.  
"Well, it's all the more fitting."

"She isn't some lewd wench, Lancelot," Galahad said, "Isn't it obvious that she is still...well, a maiden?"

Gawain slapped his head with his hands, "Oh Gods, tell me I am not hearing this."

"Do not talk of Elaine that way," Lamorak punched Galahad, but still glared at Lancelot, "You can not do that, Lancelot."

"Ha ha. Fine, I was only joking. " But secretly, there was some truth in what he said. Tristan could sense this as he looked at the Knight's smirk.

"Shut up all of you," he silenced the group, shocked to hear the scout speak up. Tristan rode up swiftly near Lancelot causing his horse to rear slightly in fear.

"Hey!"

"And you, you'd do well to think about your decision a little more wisely."

Lancelot glared at the scout, but was not able to challenge the man back. The other knights stared at the two in utter disbelief. It looked as though they would begin to fight at any moment. "Knights?"

Arthur rode up to the group, but took no notice of the behaviors of Lancelot and Tristan. "When we enter the Wall, I'm giving you all a week of leave. You have all earned it."

Tristan was the one to break the silent confrontation with the other knights, as he rode up further with Arthur. Lancelot glared after the scout, ultimately threatened by his rash behavior.

"OPEN THE GATES!"

The large wooden gears that moved the gigantic doors of the entrance into the fortress, cranked and churned. People began to file out of their homes, all anxious to witness the arrival of the knights. Villagers, old and young, ventured to the streets as the roman guards swarmed about the wall, like tiny bees near a hive.

Upon hearing the call from the guard, Vanora dropped the tray she'd been holding, and ran to the gates. Her ten children, seeing their mother's quick departure, soon followed closely behind. Number 7 actually tripped on his mother's skirts, for which she stopped and scooped the child into her arms.

"Mommy? Is Daddy home now?"

Vanora smiled back at the child in her arms as she came to the barrier between the knights quarters and the village. The knights would enter the fortress, and ride into the small courtyard, where they stood before Roman nobility, if there were any at the Wall at that time, before being dismissed. It was a customary practice of the Sarmatian Knights, started long before Bors or the others had arrived there. Vanora had grown so tired of hearing Bors complain of so many ridiculous Roman ceremonies and rituals for the simplest of things. But she had to agree with her lover. Who ever heard having all this protocol for simply coming in the door?

Vanora bent down and kissed the forehead of her babe, "Yes, sweet. Daddy's home again."

Just than, the gates burst open, and nine knights gallop valiantly through them. The villagers watched as the men rode down the streets and to their quarters; some cheered, others waved as the famed men of the Wall rode past. Counting each head as they passed, Vanora heaved a sigh of relief.

"Thank the Gods, they're all here," she prayed under her breath.

Arthur lead the men into the tiny courtyard, where inside, high upon a raised platform, stood the smiling Roman Cardinal, Commodous Aurelius. He had arrived the day after the men had left, unbeknownst to Arthur. Arthur sighed, but managed to keep a stern, passive face. The Cardinal, who lived in a large villa near the Roman occupied shores of West Briton, had a uncanny ability to simply show up at the fortress completely unexpected. The man was a rather large, slobbering creature, who always reeked of wine, rather than the common religious incenses that accompanied many of the holy men of the Roman empire. Arthur secretly despised the cardinal for his lack of conduct, especially as a officer of the Catholic church.

"Commander Artorious! It is a miracle of God, you have arrived unscathed by the blue devils," Cardinal Commodous said in a gurgle as spit shot out of his mouth. He reached forward, trying to stroke the nose of Galahad's horse, but out of instinct the beast reared back.

"Whoa, shh." Galahad soothed his horse, as he glared at the disgusting excuse for a man.

Arthur dismounted, looked back to the carriage that was arriving into the courtyard, than turned back to the cardinal and bowed. "Cardinal Aurelius, I was not informed that you would be coming to the fortress, I'll have Jols make ready your quarters for you."

The Cardinal dismissed Arthur with a wave, "No trouble, Commander. I arrived two days past, my quarters were arranged then."

"I see."

The Knights dismounted their horses, letting Jols attend to their belongings in the stables. They stood behind there commander, side by side, presenting their tired, dirty selves to the Cardinal. And the Cardinal in response, looked over the men rather quickly, than ignored them completely.

"This bastard's going to get sooner or later," Bors whispered to Dagonet.

The Cardinal heard Bors's voice, but luckily not the actual words, since he looked at the man and smiled. Or at least that is what the men thought was his sort of smile, for it was really drooling grin that showed his two large front teeth. The unfortunate not only suffered from gluttony and sloth, but he also had a bucktoothed grin.

Tristan sighed. He didn't have time for this.

That was when the Cardinal noticed the large carriage that followed the knights.

"Arthur, what have you here?" he said, pointing a chubby finger to the carriage.

Arthur nodded to Jols, and walked up to the carriage entrance. He poked his head in, speaking softly to whomever was inside, before turning back to the Cardinal. Jols too, had looked into the entrance, and returned to the outside world with a complete and utter shock upon his features. Arthur coughed, causing Jols to jump, than quickly go to work at unloading the contents of the carriage out upon the courtyard ground.

"Cardinal, may I present to you, my sister."

The Cardinal looked dumbfounded, than chuckled softly, thinking the commander was making some sort of ruse he didn't know about. That was until a small, soft white hand reached out of the carriage flaps, and was taken by Arthur's waiting one.

The knights turned to see Arthur help Elaine down from the carriage. When she appeared out of the carriage, a silence surrounded the entire courtyard, and the streets outside, where Vanora and her children and the other villagers peeked from behind the iron fence. Elaine was clean from head to toe, and dress in a amazing rose colored gown. It had a full skirt, with small train running behind, with large billowing sleeves and a slightly plunging neckline. Her pendant was absent, but her dark, wavy tresses where pulled slightly back; half up and half down, her hair was held in place by shiny strands of pearls, beautifully contrasting her raven black hair. Everyone stood in awe of her mysterious beauty, as she step off the carriage steps. Gawain feared that he would have to drag his cousin's jaw off the ground.

"Lamorak," he whispered, "Close your mouth."

Lamorak quickly shut his mouth, looking around to see if anyone else had seen his foolish expression.

"This is Elaine Flavia Castus."

Unsure of certain Roman customs, Elaine curtsied to the Cardinal. Her hands visibly shook, so she looked to the knights, rather than the cardinal. Lancelot smirked at her, giving her a wink, which made her smile. His eyes told her not to be nervous.

Tristan thought his heart had stopped when Elaine emerged from the wagon, like a goddess in one of the tales his mother had told him long ago. She was so beautiful that it was almost painful for him to look at her. But than he saw the exchange between her and Lancelot, and his heart burned. He had to get out again, for he felt the need to kill something. Perhaps some game, or if he was lucky , a Woad. If he didn't, he was sure he would strike against Lancelot. Why was he so angry?

"Sister, Arthur? I did not know that you had a sister."

"She has been away for some very long years, but has returned to be with me."

The Cardinal stepped down from the platform, but not until his attendant laid a rug down upon the dirt. The knights sneered at this arrogant gesture. The cardinal walked over to Elaine, looked her up and down, than took her hand in his, leaving a slobbering kiss on her hand. Elaine couldn't help but make a disgusted face, which Bors laughed hard at.

Arthur came to her rescue though quickly moving Elaine towards the large building. "The lady has journeyed very far, and I fear she needs rest. Jols, show Elaine to her room."

"My room?" Elaine spoke quietly, searching her brother's eyes.

"Yes," he said quietly to her alone, "It has been ready for you for fourteen years, although it's has had some changes as of late, to serve a lovely young woman such as you."

Elaine gave him a teary smile, before following Jols into the grand building. Her heart warmed, for her brother had not said girl, but woman. Did he now see her as she was?

"My lady?"

Elaine turned to the man, Jols, as they walked down the spacious hallways of the quarters, "Yes, Jols."

Jols smiled heartily when she said his name. His question on whether she was anything like Arthur was quickly answered when she treated him as an equal.

"My lady, I hope you forgive me for being so bold when I say, that I have never seen my Lord happier than he was today as he rode up."

Elaine smiled graciously, taking Jols hand. "Thank you."

As they went through one great passageway, Jols informed Elaine that this was the corridor that held the Knights quarters.

"Lancelot's is the first on the right, than Kay, Gawain and Galahad. And on the left is Lamorak, than Dagonet, Bors, although he spends most of his time at the small house that he and his lover own, and lastly is Tristan's."

Elaine nodded, thinking to her self that it seemed the perfect spot for the secluded scout to stay. It was at the very end of the corridor, hidden in the shadows of the corner.

"And right around the corner, is the corridor that holds Arthur and your chambers."

Elaine turned to look down an even larger passageway than the knights. It's ceiling ran high , and large lanterns illuminated the whole hall with great light.

"The whole corridor, for only two chamber rooms?" Elaine said, completely astonished.

Jols looked puzzled, "Why yes, how else would they be, milady?"

"Oh, I don't know."

They went down the long hall until they reached a large oak door, etched with tiny leaves around it's frame.

"This is your chamber."

Jols reached in front of Elaine, and unlatched the door. As it open, Elaine nearly fell over with faint. The rooms were gorgeous. The ceilings were low, but the room was spacious and cozy. There was a large living area with a chaise lounge and three large bookcases, all next to a large fireplace. Next there was a bedroom, with a large canopy bed in the middle, followed by a washroom with a copper tub, and another room for a reason Elaine couldn't quite figure out. Each room was furnished in a light, feminine style with not to much Roman influence at all.

"This is mine?"

"Yes, my lady. Your things will be arriving here shortly."

As Jols closed the door behind him, Elaine could only stare at her newfound room with doubt. Sure she had lived in the great wooden lodges of the Celts, which were as big as a Roman palace. But they were so different than this. She had a small, but beautiful chamber in Shalott. The lodges of Gaelan were built to be in nature, rather than just a blemish on it's beauty. Elaine often giggled at the fact that tree limbs actually stuck into her windows. But this. The walls where so thick, and dark. Could she live here? She feared that her soul would become restless soon. For she was not one for thick walls, and heavy doors.


	14. A Knight Alone

Thanks to all of you who have reviewed. Your support is so appreciated.

Alright, I've had a few questions running through my mind that I need help with.

We all can picture the knights and Arthur in this fanfic, for obvious reasons, but I was wondering if you could cast the other characters (Elaine, Lamorak, Kay etc.) with any actor or actress, American, English, Australian whatever, who would they be?

I'll read your reviews if you have any ideas, and in the next chapter I'll give you mine.

Enjoy!

Chapter 14

A Knight Alone

After bidding the crude Cardinal a good night, Arthur made his way towards the stables, where he knew most of knights were likely to be. The night was beginning to set around him, as he walked down the alley. It was warm, the rains from the previous days dissipated, and many of the villagers were out in the streets. Two boys ran past Arthur, nearly crashing into him. They stared up at the Roman commander, with fear in their eyes, but Arthur smiled down at them, gently ruffling the hair of the one closest to him. They beamed back at him, before scurrying off. 

When he entered into the large doorway which led to the stables, Arthur eyes met the sight of all eight of his men training and riding their horses about. Lancelot and Kay were in the middle of what seemed to be an interesting, but friendly sword fight. Bors sat beside Dagonet, who sat sharpening the blade of a large axe with a wet stone, and jeered at every move the two combating knights made. Lamorak and Galahad were each upon their horses, while Gawain sat near them on the benches. Tristan sat above Gawain, mending a hole in his leather shirt. Arthur cleared his throat, getting the attention of each man.

"Ah, the prodigal son of Rome returns," Lancelot said, before striking down upon Kay suddenly. Kay just barely deflected his blow

"Not fair, you ass."

Arthur chuckled before moving to sit next to Gawain. "Don't let me interrupt."

Lancelot smiled, "Right, Kay, it's your move."

Bors shouted, "It's been your move for an hour."

Kay waved off the older knight's insult, before swerving around a striking at Lancelot.

"Hey, Arthur?" Lamorak asked from his horse, "Why is that old clod here?"

"Who, do you mean Gawain?" Galahad said. Gawain launched a chunk of half-eaten bread at the knight.

"The Cardinal?" Arthur waited for Lamorak to nod his head in agreement, "Oh, he says he is here to observe the well-being of certain assets of Rome a little closer."

"Which...really means...that..he...has run low on...blind...wenches," Kay responded in between blows from Lancelot's twin swords.

"Yeah, he's come to see if there's any here perchance," Galahad snorted, as he lead his white mare back toward the stalls. Jols, who had finished moving Elaine's possessions into her rooms, entered the stable, and took Galahad's reins.

"Most likely," Arthur laughed, than sat back against the bench behind him. He rested his arms behind his head and extended his legs out before him. The men were surprised, but very pleased to see Arthur at ease for once.

Tristan finished mending his shirt, than stood to move down closer to the commander. A thought had been running through his mind ever since Arthur had introduced Elaine to the Cardinal.

"Why did you not tell the Cardinal that Elaine was the healer?"

Arthur looked up thoughtful into the sky, but did not grow unnerved by his scouts question. "It was not necessary."

"Why not?"

"Well, I'll admit, I already knew that the Cardinal intended to journey here," Arthur chuckled, "he always enjoys thinking he surprises me with his arrival, thinking he's somehow outsmarted me. It would be a surprise, if he didn't always send half of his belongings to the Wall a week before he arrives."

Gawain chuckled, "What a fool!"

"But why did you not tell the truth about Elaine's purpose here? Surely he must know of Rome's command for her to be brought here," Galahad said, walking up after seeing to his mare. He was wiping his short sword with a small, red rag, as he neared Arthur and the others.

"Cardinal Aurelius is, believe or not, not considered one of Rome's more finer, respected clergy member," Arthur said sarcastically. "Rome doesn't always send him many orders."

"Still, why did you not tell him exactly who she was?"

Arthur's face grew serious again. "We still do not know Rome's intentions fully enough, concerning Elaine. The order only said that the Celtic Healer was to be brought to the Wall and that we were to wait for further instructions. I just don't think we should tell anyone about who Elaine truly is, certainly not to the Cardinal, until we know what Rome wishes of her."

Lancelot, after finishing his training with Kay, cocked his eyebrow up at Arthur, as he sat down on the bench next to him.

"I cannot believe it. Arthur doesn't completely trust Rome's orders for once."

"It is probably for the best," Kay said, as he sat on the other side of Dagonet, "for Elaine's sake, that she not be to involved with anything to do with the Cardinal. But what do you think Rome wants with her?"

"I do not know," Arthur said sitting up, a troubled look on his noble face.

"Nice Kay, just when he was starting to relax for once, you make him go mad again," Bors said.

Arthur looked up at the older man smiling, before he stood.

"Good night, men."

"No Arthur," Galahad protested, but did not move to stop his commander. "Come to the tavern with us."

"I would, but alas, Elaine has been alone in her room all night. Knowing how she is about being trapped in doors, she's probably clawing at the walls already. Good night."

The knights shared a hearty laugh, as they bid the commander a good night, before slowly rising from the benches, one by one, and making their way out of the stables. All nine spilled out into the streets, their laughter waking up half of the sleeping houses as they went by.

"Ahh, they want another drink."

Vanora slammed her wooden tray down upon the bar, where Bors sat, his son, Gilly, sitting up on his lap. Bors was telling his son about his latest battle, in the hopes that it would encourage the boy to become a little more aggressive with his own fighting.

"Here, woman," Bors slipped his arm around Vanora's waist, pulling her to him, while still steadying Gilly on his left knee, "give us a kiss."

Vanora giggled, but pushed gently against his broad chest. "No, I have to work."

But despite her excuses, the two lovers got more and more affectionate. Gilly made a face, before slipping of his father's knee, unnoticed as he ran off to tackle one of his brothers. Vanora giggled against Bors lips, as his strong hands moved up and down her back.

"Excuse me, but some of us would like some more ale."

Lamorak hopped up on the stool next to Bors. Bors ended his assault on his lover reluctantly, before turning annoyed to the young knight. The seven other knights came up merrily behind Lamorak, each spreading out in the small bar space.

"Do you mind, boy."

Lamorak shook his head, "Only because I'm usually forced to."

"Watch your tongue, Lamorak," Vanora pointed her small finger at him, as she smiled slyly.

"Anything for you, Vanora, but," he tapped his empty mug loudly against the hard wood of the bar, "I still could use that ale."

Vanora glared as the other knights, Bors included, laughed. She made her way behind the bar, but found that Tristan blocked the entrance. He leaned up against he wall, his long legs extended far out in front of him, as he bit into a glossy green apple. Vanora frowned. She had gotten to know all the other knight quite well, all except Tristan, for he was very quite and seemed a little dangerous. Vanora was a very brave woman, but deep inside, she feared the scout more than anything else on the earth. She didn't hate him, for how was it fair to hate someone you hardly knew, she just didn't wholly trust him. 

Tristan noticed Vanora's nervous look. He knew she was frightened of him, as was most of the barmaids and wenches at the Wall. Personally, Tristan liked Vanora; she was a decent woman, a rare thing in such a dark place. He moved his legs up, straightened his back against the wall, as she passed by quickly.

"So, who was that woman?" Vanora asked the men, as she busied herself retrieving more ale for her pitcher.

The knights halted. They remember what Arthur had asked of them in the stables, but weren't sure that they couldn't just tell Vanora.

"She looked like a queen or something. I've never seen such a gorgeous gown in all my life, and those stones in her hair. I heard someone say they were pearls. Pearls? I'd only ever heard of them. Oh, but she was just as beautiful of face..."

"You are babbling Van," Bors nudged at her arm across the Bar. Vanora shut her mouth, but narrowed her eyes at him.

"Well if you'd only tell me who she was, than I wouldn't."

"She's...Well, she's Arthur's sister," Kay said, as he leaned both his bulky forearms down upon the edge of the bar. Vanora nearly dropped the pitcher as she poured ale into Lamorak's waiting mug. Some of the cold brown liquid splashed upon the young knight's sleeve, causing him to jump off the stool.

"Van!"

The woman ignored his exclamation, "Arthur's what?"

"His sister," Lancelot repeated, his trademark smirk emerging over his face.

"Arthur has a sister?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Well she's very beautiful."

"And quite talented with a bow and arrow. And sword. And dagger. Oh, and these strange looking knives," Gawain rambled on.

"She can fight?"

"Yeah." Tristan spoke for the first time.

She turned to look at the scout, as she asked, "Like a Woad?"

"More like a Celt, I guess." Galahad scratched his messy beard.

"A Celt?"

"It's a long story."

"She possesses a perfectly quick tongue, as well," Lancelot said, as his eyes stared down into his mug, a genuine loving smile on his face. Vanora noticed this, as little taken aback by such an expression on the scoundrel of a knight. She could not recall a single time where Lancelot spoke of a woman in such an admiring, kind tone before.

"Does she now? Well, Lancelot, I am sure you enjoyed her cunning mouth."

The sly smirk returned once again, as Lancelot looked devilishly at Vanora, "Regretfully, not in the way I'd like to enjoy it."

Vanora shook her head, and Kay punched Lancelot's arm hard.

Lamorak, looking quite upset, retorted, "Oh, but how she always seemed to defeat Lancelot with her words." Lamorak told Vanora of the many things Elaine had said to Lancelot. Vanora laughed so hard, tears feel down her cheeks, and Lancelot's jaw turned hard, as he took forceful gulps of his ale.

"Oh, I like her already! What is her name?"

"Elaine."

"Ahh, that is such a pretty name. Come, tell me more of this Elaine."

Tristan couldn't stand to listen to the group any longer. He had to get out of the bar, out of the tavern, out of the streets. 'Hell, I need to get out of the fortress.' There was no way he could stand to listen to them talk of Elaine. For all he could think about was her, and he didn't need his thoughts to be encouraged.

Tristan silently slipped out of the tavern, completely unnoticed by Vanora or any of the other knights, or so he thought. Kay watched as Tristan left.

He strode quickly towards the stables to retrieve his steed. He needed to rid his mind of her, and a hunt would do just that. His focus would be on the kill, and not on her face. Her face, surrounded by white light, her dark silky tresses, her pouting rose lips, deep dark eyes...

Tristan froze. Gods he was mad.

The Woad warrior yawned as he got up from his seat next to his companions. He made his way into the clearing to relieve himself. The forest was cloaked in utter darkness. Tristan was hidden behind a huge oak tree, bent over low to the ground as he neared his target. His footsteps fell silent upon the forest floor, his shoulders moving up a down with each step, as if he was a wild cat of sorts. With fierce dark eyes, the skilled scout had no trouble seeing the world in the dark; his senses always seemed to be a little more heightened than the average man. Tristan reached behind him, retrieving a single arrow from his quiver, and notching it into his bow. He waited in silence, before he was to strike.

The Woad neared the oak tree, coming from a small campfire in the woods, where three others like him, sat. They were sent by Merlin to watch the happenings at the Great Wall, especially those involving the lady of the Knights. The blue woad yawned again, but was cut short when an arrow hit directly through his throat. The others heard the disturbance, and quickly ran into the clearing. When they reached the fallen comrade, who still struggled, not near to death quite yet. There was no one in the clearing, and the warriors frantically searched the woods. They weren't left waiting long, when another mysterious arrow shot through the air, and point-blank into the eye of another woad. Tristan burst through the trees, swinging his long sword, slicing an arm off, than running the third Woad through. The fourth, and last, charged the scout, wailing like a madman. Tristan quickly spun around, hacking the man through the stomach. The scout stood still, fury and excitement running through his veins, and his heart thumping hard against his chest. The three dead woads lay at his feet, and scout looked down upon them. He lived for this, for the hunt. It was the only thing he knew that calmed him. Yet, as he stood there deep in the British woods, dead bodies he'd mercilessly slain at his feet, Elaine's face came into his mind. His heart beat even faster than before, and his hands began to tremble. He hated himself. This was not him. 

"Argh."

Tristan turned to see the first woad struggling with the arrow lodged deep in his neck. Blood gurgled in his mouth, and spilled down his face like a stream of water. He was attempting to escape. The scout walked slowly to him, and stood over the woad, a mask of no emotion whatsoever placed over his face. Fear filled the woads eyes, as he stared helplessly at the man standing before him. Tristan was unaffected. He quickly swiped his sword down upon the man's chest. The fear disappeared as the woads eyes darkened. 

Tristan stood over the bodies, alone in the woods. This, was who he was. 


	15. Grave Decisions

The EarthSong - Thanks for yourreview. I'm glad that you enjoy thestory so far. I didn't know that interesting bit about the apple, but I'm glad it was there. The reason I had Tristan share his apple with Elaine was that I wanted it to be a sort of action that he did without even thinking about it. Tristan isn't one for sharing with others, but this shows that he hold some underlining feelings for Elaine, despite what his mind is telling him. I love that the apple is a symbol of love! That just improves upon what I was trying to show. Apples and Tristan seem to be a reoccuring theme in the movie as well. Oh, and although I had Elaine as a pagan in a previous draft of this story, I decided that she would retain her christianity but embraced paganism. She's very liberal in that sense, because she accepts the other religions of her people, but she was so instilled with the christian ways of her father and Pelagius that it stuck. You'll see in later chapters, that her views may slip, like Arthur's does in the movie. She also says a lot of fake celtic phrases and prayers despite her being christian. Consider her as a christian/pagan, she believes in god deeply, but is also very much in touch with nature and, espcially in healing. Also, I didn't want her to come off as ashamed of her being able to fight. She's actually very proud of her abilities, as we'll see in upcoming chapters, it was only that she was afraid of what Arthur might think or do. I wanted her to be secretive about her skills. The fact that Tristan found out, unnerved her a bit, but she was just afraid of Arthur mostly. After all, he still thinks of her as his little sister, when in fact she's a strong, vibrant woman now. Sorry. Wow I ramble, but thanks, I loved your views on my story

Here's my actor choices:

Kay - a Gerard Butler type

Lamorak- Orlando Bloom, or even Cillian Murphy. I know there different types, but I'm torn. I love Cillian!

Elaine - this was hard, but I like Natalie Portman or Emmy Rossum for Elaine. But I also picture Elaine having a more athletic body, little more bustier than the two. Not like Keira Knightely, but similiar.

Okay I'll shut up! Sorry. If anyone else has any questions or suggestions please voice them!

Enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 15

Grave Decisions

Elaine smoothed out the long skirts of her dress, as she looked at her reflection in the mirror, hanging high upon the stone wall of her chambers. She wore a dull gold colored gown, that had a hood attached to the shoulders, and just below the chest, a deep violet silk sash was tied tightly. Isolde had made the robe for her when she was eighteen years old, as a gift for her Ehtele'mele, a ceremony given for each new healer in the tribe. The healer was honored that day with a festival, and at midnight, was given a crest made for her alone. But it was not an ordinary crest that the healer received, rather one that they had to bare all their lives. A specific Celtic design was tattooed onto the skin of the Healer, forever binding them to their craft. Elaine's rested on her lower back, a place she figured that it would be least visible. Being a Healer was a sacred right in the Celtic religion, second only to the druids and holy men. Yet, throughout her entire time living with Gaelan and Isolde, Elaine managed to retain her Christianity. Although her tattoo was not meant to be religious, since a healer held no religious rank, Elaine had made sure that it was not sacrilegious or offensive to God in any way. Instead of an image of a pagan god or deity, Elaine had chosen a familiar illustration. Her tattoo was designed exactly like her mother's pendent, a starburst with Celtic knots looping around it. Elaine smiled as she ran her hand over the fabric over her elaborate gown. It was a fitting outfit for what she would be doing that day.

A knock at her door stirred Elaine out of her thoughts. She took one last look at her self in the mirror, pulled her hood over her hair, and grabbed the small bundle of flowers that sat near the vase that held the single red rose from before.

Elaine sighed and smiled, "Vedui' elenya narie."

She walked over to the door, opening it with a smile. Arthur leaned against the door frame, "Ready?"

Elaine showed her brother the small bundle she carried, "I have been for years."

Arthur smiled a bittersweet smile before he took his sister's hand in his, and lead her down the hall. He had come to her last night. She had opened the door and he stood as he had that morning, except tears lay on the edge of his eyelids. He begged her forgiveness, and she for his. They spent most of the night by the fire place, telling stories and laughing.

The two made it out of the main quarters and into the fortress streets. It was early morning, the sun just rising in the sky, as the siblings wandered towards the stables, cloaked in the fog that always occurred in Briton. No one was out in the streets yet, so no saw the two enter the stables.

Arthur lead Elaine down the rows of stalls until they reached the one that held his. He moved inside to prepare his saddle, leaving Elaine at the stall door.

Elaine yawned and stretched rather unladylike with early morning fatigue. Arthur chuckled inside the stall as he caught his sister's act, but did not speak.

A sudden rustling gained Elaine's attention and she ventured out into the stables with a puzzled look on her face. She froze when she was met with the sight of Tristan coming out from the stall that housed his gray mare. He was walking towards her, staring down at his gloved hands, until he looked up and saw her. He stood still, and Elaine was surprised to see that he was genuinely shocked to she her, for his eyes grew wide, though his face remained the same. Her heart pounded. Elaine attempted to break the apparent tension with a friendly smile, that was until she caught a glimpse of his hands. She gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth. Tristan was affected by her movements, and he followed her eyes back down to his hands. Blood and gore stained the dark brown leather of his gloves. He opened and closed his palms, before looking up to meet Elaine's puzzled and frightened face. Before she could speak, Tristan strode swiftly passed her and out of the stables. Later, she would mentally kicked herself for appearing so aghast and thus probably hurting Tristan. But at that moment, the only emotion Elaine could feel coursing through her body was fear. Utter fear.

Arthur steeped up beside Elaine and watched Tristan walk past. He evidently hadn't seen all of what she had seen.

"Ah, Tristan must have been out hunting last night. He does that from time to time, even when he's not ordered to do so."

Elaine shook her head, but didn't take her eyes away from the door that Tristan had fled out of. For some reason, she felt as though she would need to speak with the scout sooner or later.

"Elaine, what troubles you?"

Elaine turned to Arthur's worried face, and smiled. She placed her hand on his cheek.

"Nothing, my lord."

Arthur smiled back down, forgetting all else. He lead the horse from the stall, and mounted the steed, before reaching down and scooping Elaine up from the ground with one arm, placing her comfortably in front of his. Her legs dangled over the horse's side, and she rested her head on her brother's chest, as they lunged forward.

As the white steed galloped steadily up the grassy knoll, the sun was beginning to rise higher in the morning sky. The dew that remained from the cool night air, seemed to splash up from the ground like sprays from the ocean breeze, as the horse trampled up the hills. Soon they neared the bottom of Badon Hill, and Arthur slowed the steed down significantly before they ascended. He did not want to crush the burial mounds of those brave men who had fallen before him. Arthur held them with the greatest honor, for they were greater men, braver men than he felt he could ever be. They fought gallantly to the death for a cause not of their own, dying for his father, and his father and so on. To even slightly disturb their final resting place was no less than a sin to Arthur.

Soon the white steed slowed, and eventually stopped at the gently pull on the reins by his master. Arthur jumped swiftly down upon the ground, than reached up to help Elaine. She was careful, so as not to ruin or tear her gown, as she was gracefully lifted from the saddle, courtesy of her brother's large strong arms. She held fast to the bundle of flowers, as Arthur took her small hand in his, guiding her steadily up the hill. They ascended the knoll in silence. Arthur's was so calm, it began to make Elaine nervous. She hadn't been to this spot since her childhood. What would she say? What should she do?

"Here we are," Arthur brought the young woman out of her nervous state. They stood before a grassy burial mound at the very top of the hill, near the entrance to the woods, and the only one that had no sword marking it. Elaine's grasp on Arthur's hand loosened as her immediate fears and trepidation vanished. She kneeled beside the mound, gently placing her hands in the grass near the top, as her eyes stared sadly down upon it.

Arthur smiled grimly at his sister's response to seeing their father's grave after nearly fourteen years. He stood at the base, looking solemnly at the empty space that once held the sword that was, at that moment, residing by his side.

Elaine looked to Arthur, and followed his eyes. She chuckled softly.

"I had a feeling that you would still bare his sword. Excalibur was never truly meant to lie rotting in the earth; it should always be in the hands of a great man."

Arthur was touched by Elaine's words. He walked over to her, slowly lowering himself down to the ground.

"It feels strange," Elaine continued despite her brother's presence beside her, "to be here after so long. Never in all the time I was with the Celts, did I loose my love for them, both of them, nor you. But, I will not deny that my memory faded with the passing years."

Arthur sighed, dropping his head. That's when he noticed that Elaine was shaking. He looked up at her turned back, seeing tremors run up an down her tiny form. No, she was not trembling. She was weeping. Arthur instantly draped his arms tightly around her back, crossing them around her waist.

"Elaine? What is it love?"

Elaine turned and threw her arms around Arthur's neck. "Oh, Arthur. I..can't...I can't remember their faces."

The two stayed this way for several moments, each holding on to the other as though their very lives depended on it. As she wept in his arms, a few silent tears slipped gradually down the young commander's face. His green eyes seem to blaze a shade lighter, as tears fell further down his sculpted cheeks.

"Elaine...promise me. Promise that you will never leave me," Arthur choked out, clutching Elaine's small form tightly towards him. Tremors ran through her body.

"Arthur."

"No, swear to me," Arthur took her by the shoulders, making her eyes meet his, "swear that you will never leave my side again, come what may. Do it Elaine, swear."

The ferociousness in Arthur's eyes inflamed his desperate demands. Elaine stared up at her brother in amazement and slight fear. If she did stay, what would become of her? What of her family in Shalott? Could she abandon them? Could she bare to leave Arthur again? Could he bare it? Would he force her to stay no matter what she said?

As these questions swam frantically around in her head, Elaine realized that her life was completely changed in the past three days. She was reunited with her brother, she was back in the land of her birth, and she had met eight amazing men who had saved her life. Her heart was deeply torn.

"I promise, Arthur."


	16. New Surroundings

Chapter 16

New Surroundings

It was late in the day when the great white steed of the Roman commander galloped through the gates at Hadrian's Wall. The sun was low in the sky, and the people of the wall were now all returning from their various forms of work and trade. Some witnessed the lady and the commander enter the fortress and head in the direction of the stables, all still very confused as to exactly who she was.

Kay looked up from his place in the stable's benches, where he sat sharpening his long sword, when Arthur and Elaine entered the stable doors. They went passed him, smiling, before entering the stall that belonged to Arthur's horse. They had been gone most of the day, but the commander had informed his knights of his business with Elaine the night before. Kay had been pretty bored for the most of the day, nothing or nobody to be around. Tristan had locked himself in his chambers all day, Gawain and Galahad had been fighting the affects of the drink they had consumed the previous night, Lancelot was somewhere, and the rest of the knights had been occupied in other matters. Kay sighed and pushed a strand of his chestnut brown hair out of his face. 

"Ah, it's good to see that you've finally returned," Kay said as he wandered over to the now occupied stall. He leaned up against a beam and peered into the small alcove, as Elaine emerged first, leaving Arthur to care for the animal. 

"You look very pretty today, Elaine," Kay smiled, as the woman walked towards him, with her head to the ground. Kay noticed her slight trembling hands, and the shook up look that consumed her whole form. 

Elaine looked up and smiled briefly, barely meeting Kay's bright green eyes, before she cast her gaze down once more. She sat down slowly on a stool facing the beam that supported Kay's tall form.

"Something wrong?" 

"Oh, no."

Kay huffed, "Right, so I take it that you always enjoy wrenching your hands together like that."

Kay crossed his arms, looking down towards Elaine's hands. Elaine followed his gaze, realized what an anxious fool she looked like, than placed her hands on top of each other gently. 

"Busy day, that's all."

"Oh, right."

Kay chuckled, shifting his weight from on leg to the other. Elaine suddenly become very annoyed by the knights actions.

"Must you be so aggravating."

"Whoa there, I'm not Lancelot."

Elaine paused, "Sorry, Kay." 

With that Elaine pushed off the stool, nearly toppling the chair over completely, as she marched swiftly to the stable door. Kay watched her leave, the long sleeves of her dress billowing out behind her. The knight sighed and shook his head.

"Alright Arthur, what have you done now?"

Arthur's head shot up suddenly from behind the stall door. Kay chuckled at his innocent look.

"What do you mean?"

Kay sighed, "Never mind, there is something more important to tell you."

A smile appeared on the Roman's face. 

"What, has Lamorak been slaughtered finally by Vanora's hand? I knew that boy would someday succumb to her wrath. Tell me, was it with a wooden spoon or other cooking utensil?"

Kay sighed as Arthur pushed past him, his sword, Excalibur in his hand. He wandered over to a large wooden table that sat opposite the stalls. Tiny little bits of stone and large red rags were thrown carelessly about the table. Arthur set down his sword and began wiping it clean, from the very hilt, slowly up to the very tip. 

"Arthur," Kay came up right behind Arthur, " a message came today from Rome."

His hand paused at the words, the red rag poised at the sharpest point of the massive blade. Arthur swallowed hard, before he set down his sword, and turned slowly back to his knight. Kay cast his eyes downward, not really wanting to be the one to deliver such news. Yet, he had been the one least busy of the eight, or at least the one most alert or not hidden away. He had just emerged from a hearty supper in the tavern when he witnessed the rider come through the gates. It was a Romans carrier, sent from the Eastern shores of Briton with a sealed document for Artorious's eyes only. 

Arthur tried to remain calm. "What did the message convey?"

"I do not know. The scroll remains sealed in your quarters."

Opening and closing his palms slowly at his sides, Arthur stared down at the dirt ground of the stable floor. As his eyes surveyed the dusty floor, he drew in slow breaths of air, gradually trying to calm his racing heart.

"Arthur, it can only be about Elaine, right?"

Arthur couldn't answer his friend. He continued to stare at the ground, lost in his thoughts.

Kay lifted his head slightly in realization. 

"You think they'll take her."

"There is only one way to know for sure. Come with me."

Elaine sighed as she reached behind her neck, closing the clasp of her mother's pendent, letting dangle low on her chest. So many strange emotions were swarming through her mind that very moment that she could only stare at her reflection in the mirror that sat upon the vanity. Arthur had made her promise to always be by his side, not matter what, and she had vowed to do so. But she couldn't help but feel distraught. More than anything she wanted to live with her brother at the Wall, in Rome, wherever he may be. Fourteen years had taken their toll on her. Yet, at the same time, she desired to see her lands again. Shalott had been her home all those years, and its people had become her people. Could she forget them after they practically adopted her as their own?

Elaine cried out softly, as she buried her head in her hands. She had been told by Gaelan to journey to Briton only to offer a peace with the Woads, which clearly was not an option any longer. Elaine hadn't even imagined she'd ever be reunited with Arthur again, but she had. 

Suddenly, Elaine remember what Isolde had told her before she left.

"Elaine, dearest daughter, I will tell you now what I told you the day you came to these golden shores. Over time your heart will learn to love this land. You will dwell here, you will fight for it, and you will thrive here. But you will never belong to this land. For it's deep forests, it's vast shores could never contain the spirit that lives within you. Your destiny is greater than any who dwell here. You are meant for greater things. Shalott will remain in your heart forever, but it will also remain in your past. Eyes forward, Elaine. Do not look back at the past, at Shalott. Look only now to your future."

Elaine looked back into her mirror. She knew than that she would keep her vow to Arthur. Even if she never saw her beloved Shalott again, Elaine would be by her brother's side from then on. 

A short while later, Elaine emerged from her chamber. It was pitch black as the night set in. The hallway that held Arthur and her chambers was completely empty. Looking quickly around, Elaine made her way silently through the passage, searching her mind for the directions Jols had given her. She had decided to dress down that night, wearing a soft linen dress with a crisp white shirt underneath. Elaine wanted to be able to venture around the fortress in a little less conspicuous manner, and she new that if she wandered around wearing one of the more elaborate gowns she owned would only draw more eyes upon her.

As she traveled down the long hallways of the quarters, Elaine suddenly stopped in a large corridor. Three passageways stood before her, each leading in different directions. Spinning slightly around, Elaine realized that she was lost. She cast her eyes back at the three doors.

"Which one do I choose?"

Elaine walked slowly towards the doors, before ultimately deciding to venture through the middle one. Carefully opening the large wooden door, Elaine peered through the entrance before gradually making her way through. So caught up in her discovery of the passageways, Elaine had hardly noticed the dark figure looming in the shadows right behind her. Just moments after Elaine had gone through the middle door, the dark figure swiftly followed, closely the door mutely behind.

After she had entered through the large middle door, Elaine found herself in front of even larger wooden door. Elaine sighed, blowing a loose strand of curly brown hair out of her face in the process. She placed her hand on her hips.

"Really, is this necessary."

After tapping her toe in a strange sort of defiance, her curiosity got the best of Elaine. She sighed once more as she relented and reached to open the door. It took two hard yanks from her to finally loosen the heavy door, which Elaine noticed had large pieces of gold embedded deep in the curving designs. 

The sight that lay within the large doors made Elaine freeze. Her jaw hung open in awe as her eyes scanned the ornate chamber around her. It was a grand room, larger than Elaine had ever seen before, with lush marble floors and columns, and dark green walls, darker than the leaves of the trees. Beautiful white plaster leaves and vines swerved in and around the walls, as if they had life running within them, and the room was lowly lit by sporadic bronze lamps that hung around from golden chains that entwined all the way from the high ceilings. Yet, it was what was in the very center of the room that immediately drew Elaine's attention. A vast round table was placed in the center of the great chamber, encircling a large fire pit, with many low chairs set along the outside. It's etched surfaces seemed to glow in the firelight, giving the shiny table an golden aura of importance and honor. 

Elaine drew in closer to the table, hesitantly reaching her hand to touch the gleaming surfaces. She slowly followed the letters that had been etched into the table, with her fingers. Galahad. Gawain. Percival. Bors. Dagonet. Gareth. Names she knew, others she did not. Fallen knights given immortality through their existence etched into the wood of the great, round table.

"You should not be wandering around alone."

Elaine jumped and spun around. Tristan was there behind her, leaning his back against the beam of the doorframe. His dark eye bore into hers, glistening in the light. 

"I…I am sorry. I know I should not have entered into a sacred chamber such as this."

Elaine made to leave, but Tristan's strong hand deftly caught her elbow, pulling her gently in front of him. Her heart pounded, as he drew in near to her, his chest inches away from hers. A slight tremble ran through her as she forced her eyes up to meet his. Tristan felt her tremors, but only drew in closer.

"Why do you fear me?"

Elaine's chest heaved up and down as she stared in the scout's deep brown eyes, that were all but hidden by a few long strands of his messy hair. Their close proximity, in addition to the emotions that were sent surging through her body simply by the look in his eyes, made her tremble harder.

"I do not fear you."

"Than why do you tremble at my sight?"

Elaine knew she was not afraid of the knight in the common sense. She was afraid of what she felt.

"I do not fear you, Tristan."

Tristan's own heart pounded harder, when she mention his name. He noticed that her eyes sparkled in the low light of the hall. 

"Forgive me."

Elaine's brow furrowed in confusion. "For what?"

"For my actions," Tristan mumbled softly, " that night in the forest. I do not want you to fear me."

The smile that emerged across he soft ivory face made Tristan immediately relinquish his hold on her. He silently chided himself for acting like a fool. He turned away from her, his mask of no emotion slipping firmly upon his features. 

"Tristan," Elaine whispered, placing her soft hand upon his elbow. Tristan felt her warmth radiate through the tough material of his shirt, seaping straight into his skin, warming the blood that coursed through his veins. The trembling that gently shook her before had ceased.

"I do not fear you."

Tristan turned to face her once again. Her eyes were warm and inviting, no trace of the fear that had clouded her deep orbs before. Silently, he reached out his hand, and swept away a loose strand of her silky hair out of her face. Elaine's eyes slightly closed at his touch, enjoying the strange feeling of his rough skin on her own.

"You should not be out alone."

Elaine smiled, "You know very well, Sir Knight, that I can take care of myself."

"Do you have a weapon?"

The smile that had appeared on her face fell slightly, as she bit her lip. Elaine had not even a knife on her.

"Do I need one?"

"Do you have one?"

"Will there be trouble of some sort?"

"Do you always answer a question with a question?"

"Do you?"

Tristan huffed, drawing away from the aggravating woman in front of him. "You should not wander the fortress alone and unprepared at night. There are many…lonely men about."

Elaine froze, for she hadn't thought of that notion. Isolde had long ago warned her of the treachery of some men. That the weaker ones of heart may prey on the innocence of a young maiden such as herself, attacking without warning, beyond her control, just to satisfy there own vicious lust.

Tristan reached down at his side, retrieving a sharp dagger. 

"Here, carry this with you."

Elaine took the dagger, examining it with a sense of an expert. Tristan smirked.

"You give this to me?"

Tristan huffed, "To borrow."

Elaine smirked right back at the clever knight that was beginning to surface. She enjoyed learning more and more about the man whom she had loved as a child. So changed, yet so similar.

"I thank you, and I promise not to be so foolish in the future."

Tristan just nodded, before turning and leaving the great hall before Elaine could stop him. As his form disappeared into the shadows once again, Elaine tucked the dagger at her side in the tight belt that was draped around her middle. Casting one last glance at the awe-inspiring round table, Elaine too disappeared into the shadows of the hall.

Not much later into the night, Elaine found herself wandering the streets of the fortress. The darkness of night had fully set in around the tiny village, and the people ventured either into their homes for sleep, or out into the streets for other more lively entertainment. As she past by the people, Elaine smiled. They remindered her so much of the lively Celts. Some of their frequent festivals lasted well into the night, and the liveliness of the people of Hadrian's Wall seemed to match that of her own people. She passed a happy troupe of fiddlers and pipers, merrily playing their music as others moved to their rhythm. 

A drunken elderly man accidentally bumped into Elaine, so much so that she had to steady him as well as herself.

"Oh, my apologies my lady."

Elaine smiled, "No harm done."

The man wobbled along his way, swaying to the music as he pasted by. Elaine chuckled as she turned in the direction in which the old man had come. She soon stood right outside an open area where many rowdy people sat, drinking and gambling. Elaine spotted a few of the knights among the throng of villagers and Romans alike, but she soon felt a sudden wave of nervousness set in once again. Elaine was quite new to such activities, especially when it came to drink, and she was quite unsure of the certain mandates and procedures of these people. Her soft palms grew sweaty, and she began to back away, slipping into the shadows from where she came. 

"Where do you think you're going?"

Elaine swung around suddenly, quickly grabbing Tristan's dagger, and swiped her long leg across the ground, tripping the figure that had crept up behind her. The man fell the ground with a thud, grunting at the sudden impact and the surprise of a dagger poised directly beneath his jugular.

"Gods, woman! It's me!"

Elaine's eyes grew wide as she realized that the man she had just thrown hard to the ground was none other than Lancelot. The dark knight glared up at her from beneath his black curls. She quickly moved the blade away from his throat and offered her hand.

"Oh Lancelot."

Lancelot frowned and swatted away her outstretched hand, "No, I'll help myself up. Have I not suffered enough that you would cause me further humiliation? Gods in the heavens, woman, you're lucky no one saw."

A happy smile stretched over Elaine's face, as she bit her lip. Lancelot noticed her attempt to restrain her laughter as he dusted the dirt off his broad shoulders. 

"Oh, go ahead."

Elaine burst into a fit of laughter. She had to bend over and clutch at her sides the laughter was so great.

"You should have seen your face!"

"Ha Ha."

"Oh I am sorry Lancelot. I was only trying to be careful lest some foul creature try to prey on my innocence," Elaine chuckled, wiping two tears from her cheeks.

Lancelot smirked, "And you thought I was such a creature."

"Well," Elaine crossed her arms about her chest, "perhaps your intentions were noble, but I'm pretty certain about the foul part."

Lancelot drew nearer, causing Elaine to feel nervous again, "I may be foul, but how can you be so sure of my intentions, my lady."

Elaine blinked, suddenly feeling quite intimidated by the knight. Yet, his eyes were warm and his usually smirk replaced by a genuine smile, that made his features quite handsome. Elaine felt her legs go weak as she stared up at the tall knight, his eyes light by the fires around them. His curly locks fell down his face, giving him a boyish appearance, but Lancelot was certainly no young lad. The muscles of his arms flexed slightly as he reached forward, drawing another loose strand of her hair away from her face. He let his hand linger, gently cupping her cheek.

"Come," he said just above a whisper.

Lancelot took Elaine's hand in his, staring into her eyes as he began to lead her to the tavern. As they drew closer, Elaine's enchantment of Lancelot's eyes faltered, as she remember her trepidation from before. She stopped, gently pulling against Lancelot's strong hold. A concerned look appeared on the knight's face as her neared her once more, yet never relinquishing his hold on her hand.

"What is it?"

"I…I don't know."

The famous Lancelot smirk appeared once more.

"Do not tell you are afraid? The brave Elaine, who slays Woads, gallops fiercely across the lands, and enchants the hearts of men wherever she goes, is afraid of a tavern?"

A crimson blush crept up on her cheeks, causing Lancelot to laugh heartily.

"Come."

The two slowly entered the tavern, greeted by the knights that noticed there sudden arrival. Neither of them knew that Tristan lurked in the shadows right behind them, and had witnessed their little confrontation. The scout moved slowly into the light, a stone cold look on his face. After a moment, Tristan too entered into the tavern, leaving a trail of tiny crimson droplets in his path. Blood seeped through his closed fingers, and just as he entered the tavern, Tristan paused and opened his palm. Amidst the flowing blood, small rose thorns stuck deeply in his palm. 


	17. Getting to Know You

Sorry for the lack of updates, but I've been getting ready for college! I'm excited.

Wow, so many reviews, thanks alot.

In this chapter, I have a few songs, written by Loreena McKennitt, Greensleeves and the Mummer's Dance. I own neither of them, of course, so I just wanted to add this little disclaimer.

Enjoy and Tell me, please, what you think!

Chapter 17

Getting to Know You

The Tavern was filled with loud laughter and merriment. Everyone was in a festive mood, music was playing, and the Knights sat around their usual table enjoying the gaiety about them. The nervous tension that had filled Elaine just moments after she had entered the Tavern, was slowly fading away as she laughed and joked with the knights around her. Lancelot sat at her side, laughing hard as they watched the drinking game that had developed between Galahad and Gawain. Completely unused to the effects of strong drink, Elaine watched the two young knights with a slight bit of fascination.

Just then, Galahad slammed down a mug, after downing the contents in a race with Gawain who still drank from his own, and the young man yelped a cry of triumph.

"I win, Gawain!"

The blonde knight frowned from behind his mug, before he set it down on the long wooden table in front of him. Lamorak, who sat directly opposite Elaine, patted his cousin's shoulder.

"There's no denying it, Gawain. He's finally beat you."

Lancelot chuckled, "And now you must face the terms of the wager."

Elaine giggled, "What were the terms?"

The young woman looked at Gawain, her heart warming when she saw him actually blush and turn his eyes away from her own. Lancelot smirked , winking at Galahad and Lamorak before raising his mug of ale to his mouth.

Elaine looked around the table expectantly, "Well?"

Galahad spoke up finally, laughing hard as he did.

"Gawain must sing a song for you, dear sweet lady."

Elaine's eyes grew wide. "He must what?"

"Yes, our poor friend here must serenade you properly before he can be released from the wage," Lancelot turned to her with a gorgeous smile, causing her to slightly become flushed. "He must woo you with his song."

Gawain groaned, dropping his head hard against the table with a loud thump.

"Gods, I'll kill you all before the night is through," the knight said beneath his folded arms.

Elaine looked at the knight sympathetically, as she reached forward across the table to lay her hand on Gawain's arm. Feeling her soft touch on his skin, Gawain slowly looked up. His eyes became hopeful at her understanding look.

"Oh Gawain, that would be much to embarrassing, I'm sure," she spoke reassuringly. Gawain smiled, thankful for the possibility of her salvation from the humiliation that he might be forced to bare.

"But, I am afraid it would also be a sight that I would most enjoy to see,"

Gawain's face fell back down to the table again, harder this time, as the knights erupted in laughter. Lancelot scooted even closer to her, smiling brightly upon the cunning woman that had stolen his breath away. He couldn't believe that such a strong, beautiful, witty woman could ever exist in the dark world in which they all lived. Yet there she was, sitting beside him, her eyes aglow with her sweet laughter.

"Come now, Gawain," said Dagonet, finally speaking up after having been more observant than anything the entire night.

Gawain's head shot up from its place upon the table, glaring at his fellow knight. "And if I refuse?"

"Ah, well," Lancelot said, winking to Elaine, "then you would have to do something else to win the lady's heart."

Elaine smiled back at Lancelot, catching on to his implications. She winked back.

"Yes, and the only other way to win a lady's heart is to profess your undying devotion to me."

The young knight's head flopped back up suddenly, causing his long golden strands to fling up into the air. "That! I'll do that!"

Lancelot sighed, "Very well, as you wish. Of course, you'd have to do it in the proper, traditional manner."

"What do you mean?"

Galahad smiled, "You know Gawain, in the proper way to show respect for the lady as well as her guardian."

"Again, what do you mean?"

Elaine smiled, "Well you'd have to tell Arthur, silly!"

"What?"

Lancelot frowned, "I cannot believe you don't know. In order to pledge your devotion, you must walk up to Arthur and say, 'My lord, I have fallen madly in love with your sister, and by my life or death, I pledge my undying devotion and protection to her. I ask you to grant me her hand, so that I may take her as mine forever, both as a wife, and more importantly, as a lover."

Elaine gasped at the last word that fell from the brash knight's mouth. He chuckled, before she punched him in the arm hard.

"Ow!"

Lamorak frowned, "Nice shot." Elaine smirked back at him.

Gawain's jaw hung down to the surface of the table, "I have to say that, all of that, to Arthur?"

Elaine smiled again., rejoining the game despite Lancelot's rude addition. "Yes. Exactly that."

"He wouldn't even give me the chance to run before he sliced my head off with Excalibur"  
"Well, than I guess you're only option would be to sing," Galahad smirked.

Gawain groaned, "Fine."

The table erupted into cheers and whoops, as the young knight stood and joined the blushing Elaine beside her. Elaine giggled as Gawain kneeled before her. She felt bad that she was helping the other knight's in embarrassing her newfound friend, but he had aggreed to the terms of the wager. Elaine smiled sympathetically.

"Sorry, Gawain. Don't be mad."

Despite his obvious annoyance, Gawain looked up at the lady above him and winked.

"This happens a lot," he whispered reassuringly, "but usually not to me."

"No, no Gawain," Galahad called out, "sing so that all may hear your serenade to the lady ."

The groaning knight stood up, the attention from all of the tavern turned towards him. He shifted from on foot to the other.

"Alas my love you do me wrong To cast me off discourteously;  
And I have loved you oh so long Delighting in your company."

"Louder, Gawain"  
"Greensleeves was my delight,  
Greensleeves my heart of gold Greensleeves was my heart of joy"

"And who but my lady Greensleeves.  
I have been ready at your hand To grant whatever thou would'st crave;  
I have waged both life and land Your love and goodwill for to have."

Elaine smiled, tears in her eyes from laughter. Gawain was actually quite good.

"Greensleeves was my delight,  
Greensleeves my heart of gold Greensleeves was my heart of joy And who but my lady Greensleeves."

As the knight finished, the surrounding crowds erupted in cheer. Bors, who had been at the bar with Vanora at the time of the game, was practically rolling upon the dirty ground, convulsing in hard laughter. Poor Gawain's face was the color of red, as he rushed back over to his seat, hiding his head in his hands once more. Lancelot's rich hearty laughter could be heard above all else, as he wiped tears from his dark eyes, desperately trying to speak, but unable to form words with his quivering lips. Galahad and Lamorak held on to each other, both crying with laughter. Elaine herself, wasn't laughing quite as hard as the knights around her, as she sat astonished at the strong knight's musical abilities. Who would have guessed that such a sweet masculine voice was hidden deep within Gawain?

Elaine reached across the table just as the laughter in the Tavern was beginning to die out a bit. She rested her hand on the back of Gawain's head, gently stroking his hair with a reassuring manner. Elaine felt bad that the poor knight had lost and thus was subjected to the humiliation. Gawain groaned in response, thankful for his dear friend's comfort, but unable to bring his head up to acknowledge her for fear of more ridicule.

"Oh, Gods! I think I need to lie down," Bors said, as he began to sit drunkenly on the ground, clutching at his side, tears of laughter silently slipping down his round cheeks.

Vanora came up behind her lover with a stern face, kicking him gently with a firm foot.

"Get up Bors!"

Bors looked up at Vanora, instantly remembering his first reason for venturing back over towards the knight's table. He nodded at his lover with a tiny smile, rising up with the help of his shaky but strong arms. Bors wrapped his bulky arm around Vanora's waist, kissing the top of her forehead before guiding her over to the knights and Elaine. Vanora smiled at her lover's sweet gesture.

"Oh, Gawain," Lancelot said, finally able to speak after several moments. "Had I known that you were so musical, I'd have you singing a long time ago."

"Shut up."

Elaine smiled towards the head of Gawain.

"Gawain, it was lovely."

"Shut up."

Lamorak punched Gawain's shoulder, only to receive a returned blow to the head, the bowed knight not even rising his head to do so. Elaine looked up to see the approaching Bors with a short, red- headed woman at his side. Again, Elaine felt the unbearable nervousness that usually possessed her in the very pit of her belly. She gulped slightly as the two came up right to where she sat.

"Elaine, this is my…uh..the mother of my children, Vanora."

"She's the mother of his ten children," Dagonet said, with a slight emphasis on ten.

Elaine's mouth gaped, "I admire you already."

The red-haired woman chuckled softly, before calmly walking up to Elaine, and attempting a slight bow, "Milady."

Elaine's eyes grew wide as she shot up from the seat. She reached out her hand and placed it on Vanora's shoulder.

"Oh, please no. Don't call me that, just Elaine."

Vanora smiled as her heart warmed. "So, it's true then, what they say about you then."

"I wasn't aware there was anything going around about me at all."

"No, there is much talk of the pretty lady of the Wall. They say you are not rude like the other ladies, that you might not be one because of it."

Elaine smiled, "That's just silly, of course I'm rude. Just ask our foolhardy Lancelot over there. Tell us, sir knight, just how many times have I won one of your gambling games tonight? Six times, was it? Oh, and I cleaned him dry of his earnings. How unfortunate that he won't be able to spend all of that foolishly on some random woman tonight."

Lancelot frowned, "You speak to much for a woman."

"Oh, what ever happened to the famous Lancelot charms? Insulting a woman will get you nowhere, I'm afraid."

Elaine smiled as she felt Vanora move closer towards her side, supporting her silently, amidst her bits of laughter.

"But your undeniable attraction to me will get me everywhere."

Vanora shook her head. "Lancelot!"

"You thought I was attracted to you? Oh, poor Lancelot here has confused sympathy for attraction." Elaine shook her head in a mock look of concern and pity.

Vanora erupted in an infectious laughter that soon drew Elaine in despite herself.

"Elaine," Vanora said, placing her arm around the younger woman beside her, "I think that you and I are going to be very close friends."

Elaine grinned, "That would be absolutely wonderful."

"Oh, no," groaned Bors as his head slumped forward to the table's surface, joining the still fallen Gawain who sat beside him.

Vanora soon guided Elaine towards the bar to meet some of her many children, the two talking and giggling the entire way there.

"That may prove to be a deadly alliance you just formed, Bors," said Galahad, pointing towards the retreating women as he drank the remaining contents of his half-empty mug.

Lancelot's classic smirk appeared across his face once again, and light filled his eyes as he watched Elaine leave, the anger that flashed in them before all but disappearing. Elaine's long, dark tresses seemed to float in the air behind her as she walked, and her eyes glowed in the delicate light that surrounded them all. His heart leaped in his chest when her soft smile spread across her face. He knew that there was no denying it now; Elaine had awaken something unknown within him, that had laid dead for nearly fifteen years. And although he didn't know exactly what that feeling was just yet, he knew that he felt strongly for the lady, in more ways than one. She was, obviously, the most beautiful, intriguing thing to have ever met his sight. It was as if her beauty shined brightly, untouched by the dark, terrible world they lived in. Elaine also was smarter and stronger than any woman he'd ever come across, perhaps even more so than some men. But, at the same time, Elaine almost always found a way to simply annoy the hell out of him. She was this infuriating, cunning ball of flame that launched itself at his heart and mind. Lancelot sighed, giving Elaine one last longing glance, before turning his attention back towards the other knights that sat around him.

As she passed by with Vanora, Tristan had caught a trace of her warm scent. She seemed to always smell of roses, and oddly, the smell of a deep, dense forest. Like evergreens with fresh dew still dripping off their pines, and a youthful rose still clinging tightly to the vine. It was a strange combination of aromas, but nonetheless intoxicating to even him. He had watched her all night from the shadows of the Tavern. She had been shy and unsure of herself at first, sitting straight up in her seat by Lancelot, denying any drink but water that had been brought to her. Than, as the night progressed, she had become more comfortable, laughing with Galahad and Lamorak, sitting with a compassionate smile during Gawain's half-drunken singing, and putting down Lancelot's snide remarks effortlessly. Tristan glared at the brash knight now. He'd seen the way his eyes had watched she walked away with Vanora. His palm throbbed with pain from his self-inflicted wound, and was now reinforced by his hatred of Elaine. She made him weak. He sighed before emerging from the dark corners of the tavern.

Lamorak was the first to take notice of the scout, before he sat off to the side of the table. "Tristan, where have you been around all night?"

"Around."

"What have you done to your hand?" Dagonet spoke, pointing his giant index finger towards his palm in question.

Tristan opened his hand and smirked, carelessly wrapping the wound in some linen. "Cut myself."

No one question the dark scout further, but each man wondered how the agile Tristan could have possibly cut himself on accident. They were soon joined by a laughing Elaine and Vanora, who held her youngest up against her hip. Galahad jumped, startled by their arrival, slicing his finger with the dagger he had been sharpening.

"Dammit!"

Galahad groaned, grabbing a piece of Tristan's tossed away linen and haphazardly wrapping his heat bleeding finger. Elaine frowned, taking the young knight's hand in hers. Instinctively, Galahad pulled away.

"Come now, let me see."

"I'm fine, Elaine."

Elaine grabbed his hand, Galahad sighing as he relented to her. She peeled away the linen and accessed Galahads accidental injury. Her brows furrowed.

"This is deep, here."

Elaine applied pressure to the wound, and as the bleeding stopped, she grabbed Lancelot's beverage, dabbing an extra piece of linen in the drink. She uncovered the wound and allowed the alcohol to clean it out.

"AHHHH! THAT HURTS! STOP!"

Tristan kicked at the knight's chair, "Stop whining like a child."

Elaine looked up at the dark scout, realizing he was there as her heart began to pound in her chest. She smiled at his attempt to help calm Galahad down, but was distraught when Tristan ignored her, turning his attention back to his apple. She frowned, turning her attention back to the injured knight. Did he not seemed concern with her safety earlier that night? Hadn't he brushed his warm hand along her skin, causing flame to erupt inside her?

"There, I'm finished now."

Galahad pouted slightly, looking over his injured hand. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said as she sat down again.

"Oh no, I have to get to work," Vanora said as she looked at the large crowd that was forming around the bar again.

"Um..here will you take him, Elaine please?" Vanora lowered her young son into Elaine's lap.

"Oh, I don't..."

"Oh, pleas it will only be for a little while, I promise." Vanora rushed away before Elaine could even respond. She looked down at the tiny boy in her arms and smiled. The babe cooed at her, and she made pretty little faces at him, causing tiny giggles to erupt. Despite himself, Tristan stared at Elaine. She gently cradled the babe in her arms, the baby grabbing one of her loose strands of hair in his small palm. She smiled, causing Tristan's heart to thump hard against his ribs.

"You have a way with children it would seem," Lancelot said.

Elaine beamed up at the knight, "I've taken care of many of the young in the Celtic tribes before."

Suddenly, the baby sensed his mother's absence and began to squirm about, even though he's enjoyed the warmth of Elaine's grasped.

"Oh, he gets that way from time to time," Bors said looking across the table and into the eyes of his bastard. "He usually calms down when Vanora'll sing to him."

"Sing? But she's busy it would seem," Elaine's eyes desperately searched the crowd for Vanora's form.

"Well, why don't you sing to him then?" Lancelot said with a menacing look on his face. He was up to something.

"Oh, I couldn't."

"Yes, sing to him," Lamorak said.

Galahad, Dagonet, Bors and Gawain all started up as well despite Elaine's constant refusals.

"Come, sing!"

"Elaine sing!"

"Sing!"

"I did it, now it is your turn! It's only fair!"

Elaine sighed, looking down at the babe in her arms, "Now look what you've done little one." The babe grinned up at Elaine and gurgled as if he knew exactly what he'd started.

"Alright."

"SILENCE EVERYONE!" Lancelot shouted to the crowd as he stood from his seat.

Elaine pulled desperately at his sleeve, "Lancelot, stop!"

"THE LADY ELAINE WILL SING TO US ALL!"

"Lancelot!"

"YAYY!

The crowd quickly grew silent, all eyes turning towards Elaine. She stared right back, clutching the babe to her tightly. Her heart thumped hard in her chest. "I..I...I don't ...have...what song...I."

"Sing us a song from the Celts," Lamorak said, gently coming up behind her and helping her to hr feet.

"I...which...I can't...I."

"Come now, Elaine. For the baby." Lancelot smirked and winked. Elaine glared at him, finally realizing that he was attempting to get payback. This was another challenge. She couldn't loose.

"Very well."

The crowds encircled her, and a gentle fiddler began to play a song that she had whispered to him, hoping that he might know. No one was quiet prepared for the soft, angelic voice that she would soon evoke.

"When in the springtime of the year,  
When the trees are crowned with leaves.  
When the ash and oak, and the birch and yew,  
Are dressed in ribbons fair."

Elaine sung out, glancing to the babe in her arms from time to time. The knights stared in awe as she continued her enchanting melody.

"When owls call the breathless moon,  
In the blue veil of the night,  
The shadows of the trees appear.  
Amidst the lantern light."

"We've been rambling all the night,  
And some time of this day.  
Now returning back again,  
we bring a garland gay."

That's when Elaine's eyes met Tristan's dark ones. They stared deeply into each other's eyes, as the words floated out from within her soul. He never faltered in his stare, his eyes soft and more mesmerizing than Elaine had initially thought. There seemed to be a heat between them, that both felt the effects off. Elaine grew flushed, and Tristan's palms began to sweat irritating his wound, but he could feel nothing but what he was feeling all over his body. Her words washed over him like a wave, and he had to grip the arms of his chair so that he wouldn't jump up and close the unbearable distance between them.

"Who will go down to those shady groves,  
And summon the shadows there,  
And tie a ribbon on those sheltering arms  
In the springtime of the year."

Arthur and Kay walked into the Tavern that very moment, and both stopped dead in their tracks.

"Well what's this?" Kay whispered.

Arthur could only stand there like a fool, listening to the sweet song his lovely sister sang as she held the babe in her arms. She was so very beautiful in that moment, more beautiful than he had ever seen. He simply couldn't get over the fact that she looked so much like their mother, which was reinforce by the white shine of the pendant that lay gently upon her breast.

"The songs of birds seem to fill the wood,  
That when the fiddler plays,  
All their voices can be heard,  
Long past their woodland days."

"And so they linked their hands and danced,  
Round in circles and in rows.  
And so the journey of the night descends,  
When all the shades are gone."

"We've been rambling all the night,  
And some time of this day.  
Now returning back again,  
we bring a garland gay."

As the song ended, there was a brief silence before the crowds erupted in applause and cheers. Elaine blushed, hurrying over to the smiling Vanora to take the babe in her arms once again. Tristan's heart still thumped hard in his chest, and his breathe was coming out in labored puffs. He quickly made his way towards the exit, but noticed Arthur standing by the door with a concerned look on his Roman features.

Tristan switched over to his alert, scout self instantly upon seeing his commander, "Arthur?"

Arthur turned towards his scour slowly before making his way to the table. Tristan and Kay followed him, as the other knights soon acknowledged the arrival of their leader. Elaine looked up and smiled brightly to her brother.

"Ah, Arthur drink!" Bors yelled joyously.

They all soon noticed the stern look on Arthur's countenance.

"Knights, a problem has arisen and I must ask for your council."

"What is it Arthur?"

"It is...It concerns Elaine."

"Me?"

"Yes, come we must all meet at the Round Table. You too, Elaine."


	18. Cruel Intentions

Chapter 18

Cruel Intentions

Ten figures sat silently around the famed Round Table of Hadrian's Wall, as the night grew later in the darkness. The Samartian Knights all stared anxiously towards their Roman commander and the lady Elaine, who sat beside her brother in a vacant seat. She peered down at the table before her, slowly following the carving of the fallen knight's name with her tiny finger. Percival. Elaine silently wondered what this Percival looked like. How had he died? She imagined him looking tall and handsome, like the other knights, and fighting gallantly by Arthur's side. She was sure that every man that had his name etched into the table's surface had been a noble, brave fighter, serving Arthur loyally, even to their death. She sighed as her finger slipped away from Percival's name, looking up at the faces of the men before her. Elaine slowly scanned each face, but her eyes ultimately fell back upon the scout who sat directly across from her. His own eyes were hidden to her, under his thick, unruly braids, so she allowed herself the chance to stare at him freely; he might have been staring right back at her, but because she couldn't tell for sure, she risked that time to look unreserved at him. The memory of their secret moment during her song in the tavern floated into her mind. She had never felt so much heat and emotion before in her life, and all it was was a simple stare. But those dark eyes. They had completely consumed her whole self. Elaine realized, as she stared at Tristan from across the room, that the feelings she had for him were strong, although she wasn't sure just yet what those feelings were. Whenever she was around him, she felt nervous and unstable, which was not traits she had usually kept. Not as a fighter. Elaine could easily find herself comfortable around the other knights, but Tristan was a completely different story. Afraid she would do or say something that the scout would find foolish, and that he'd just belittle her in his silent way and ignore her, Elaine's heart thumped hard in her chest. She didn't want Tristan to find her silly, nor did she want him to see her as just one of the men, so to speak. Elaine shook her head, hesitantly drawing her eyes away from Tristan. The only thing she wanted Tristan to see was her.

Tristan watched as Elaine turned her eyes away from him. He knew she couldn't tell that he'd been staring directly back at her that moment, a technique he had perfected over the years as Arthur's scout. The entire time she'd gazed at him, Tristan had to furiously labor to control his breathing. Her eyes bore into him, and he feared for the first time in his life, wondering if she could see what she was doing to him. Did she know what she had made him become? Could she tell that he had dreamt of her every night since she had entered his life once again? Was she able to discover that she'd driven him to seek out blood? Did she know how he gazed from out of the shadows at her, mesmerizing every luscious curve of her body, secretly desiring to stroke the soft skin that lay hidden from his sight? Did she know that he'd die for her?

Tristan sat up straight at his last thought. He would die for her? His heart pounded in his chest. Yes. He would. He would of as a boy, and he'd do so now as a man. As his gaze turned slowly back at Elaine, he wondered if she saw how he saw her. The real her, the beautiful woman she was. Would she ever see him beneath his carnal facade?

Lancelot's countenance was the most agitated and angered than any of the others in the room. He unconsciously tapped his long fingers against the hard wood of the Table, impatiently sighing as the silence continued throughout the room. It was Rome again, but this time it concerned Elaine, not the knights, which surprisingly made Lancelot more angry than ever. Rome would only want one thing from her. Hatred for the empire burned as it flowed through his veins. They wouldn't hurt her, he vowed silently to himself. Lancelot stared over in Elaine's direction, noticing her alarmed state. Even when she was nervous, she was absolutely stunning. 

"Well, Arthur?" he finally spoke up, breaking the silence in the room. "Are you going to make us sit here all night or will you tell us what you brought us here to tell us?"

Arthur shifted in his seat and heaved a heavy sigh from his chest. His head ached in pain and his face seemed permanently contorted into a state of complete unrest. Noting her brother's crestfallen exhale, Elaine took pity on his poor soul, reaching across the space between their chairs and gently stroking his leather clad arm. He turned to her at her touch, searching her eyes for an answer. She smiled calmly, continuing her touch up to his face, cupping her hand around it's stubble edge. He smiled back wearily, before taking her hand in his as he turned to finally address his men.

"Men, I have received an order from Rome, concerning what is to be done with Elaine."

"What is to be done with her? You speak as if they plan on branding her like an ox and shipping her off to the Roman market," Bors said. Elaine shot a look at him from which he smirked at her.

"I wouldn't be surprised if they did," murmured Gawain.

Arthur ignored them both as he continued, "Rome had issued me an order to detain the Healer of the Celts here at the Wall, until a Roman Lord, Marcus Octavius, arrives here in a day's time."

"Detain me?"

"What do they want with her Arthur," Lancelot questioned tiredly, desiring the outright truth to the whole mess.

Arthur sighed once again, tightening his grip on Elaine's hand for support. She squeezed his hand right back, reassuring him silently to continue. 

"Rome has commanded me to place the Healer of the Celts under formal custody of the Empire. The Healer is to remain in...bondage and prepared for the journey to Rome. I am also ordered to extract certain information of the location of Shalott from the Healer through rigorous interrogation, before I turn her over to Marcus Octavius who will take her to Rome. Once she is there, the Healer will be named a servant of Rome, turning over her procedures and medicines, as well as herself, for the remainder of her life."

A dead silence filled the room as the Roman commander finished his account of the message. Arthur let out a labored breathe, hanging his head down helplessly in shame. The men sat with there mouth's hung open. All but Tristan, of course, whose fingernails burrowed deeply in the wood of his chair. His hands tremble with anger as he stared at his commander than at Elaine. 

"That cannot be true," Lamorak shook his head.

"It is, I saw the scroll myself," Kay said, scratching his short brown beard. He was the only one not surprised by the news, but he was effected nonetheless. 

Galahad chuckled sarcastically, "And you just going to place Elaine under bondage? Your sister in chains."

Arthur glared at the young knight, "No."

"They can't do that to her," Bors shouted, standing suddenly, toppling his chair as he did so.

"They wont." 

Suddenly, all the knights rose from their seats.

"She is to become a slave then, hmm," Lancelot's eyes flashed in anger. "Arthur, is she to become a slave to Rome? Stripped away from her home, her family, and placed under eternal bondage!"

"DO YOU HONESTLY BELIEVE I'D LET THAT HAPPEN TO ELAINE, TO ANYONE?" 

"YOU ALLOWED IT TO HAPPEN TO US!"

"LANCELOT, YOU KNOW ABOVE ALL ELSE, THAT I DESIRE NOTHING MORE THAN TO GRANT YOU THE FREEDOM THAT HAS BEEN DENIED TO YOU FOR SO LONG. THAT IT PAINS ME TO SEE YOU ALL SUFFER AND DIE UNDER MY COMMAND? ELAINE WILL NOT GO TO ROME."

"Oh, and how do you plan on doing that, hmm?"

Arthur drew up closer to his second in command, his words coming out from his lips cold and sure, "I would defy Rome, the Church, God himself to keep her from that fate. I'd lay down my life before seeing her in chains."

Lancelot raised up, looking respectively towards his friend. Arthur turned back to the rest of the men.

"Why would Rome order this?" Lamorak wondered out loud.

"What are we to do? We will all do anything that can be done to stop this," Galahad spoke up.

Tristan's eyes had never left Elaine during the confrontation between the knights. The woman just sat there, staring down at the table. He could not detect fear or nervous, or anything for that matter, coming from her. Elaine just sat quietly by herself, bravely accepting her fate. This only angered Tristan. How could she just sit there?

Arthur sighed again, sitting down at his chair once more, "I do not know what to do."

The men sat in silence once more, each desperately searching there minds for a plan, a device, anything that would save Elaine from the life of slavery she faced. None of the men wanted to see her as they were.

"The lord won't know who she is." 

Nine heads shot up in the direction of the calm scout, who sat back in his chair, carelessly biting at his knuckles, his gaze not meeting anyone else's. 

"What? What do you mean, Tristan?" Arthur questioned, confused by his scouts sudden, calm words.

Tristan looked up, his face looking unaffected by the gravity of the situation. He shifted his legs around.

"If you don't want Elaine to be taken, than you make the lord not ever set eyes on her."

Elaine's heart skipped at the first time she'd heard Tristan say her name aloud. It slipped off his slightly accented tongue so smoothly, and made her feel weak.

"And how do you propose we do this?" Lancelot shook his head in disbelief.

Tristan glared right back at Lancelot. 

"We kill her." 


	19. Calm Before the Storm

OH MY GOSH! I swear that some of your reviews have simply brought tears to my eyes! You are all so sweet, and I'm so thrilled that I can write something that you can enjoy reading! Believe me, I have read so many of the KA fics that some of you have written before, and I'm just honored that you like my fic too!

Enjoy!

Chapter 19

Calm Before the Storm

"Do you really think is all going to work?"

Lamorak looked anxiously up at Kay from his seat in the lower benches in the stables. The knights had developed a plan the night before to save Elaine from the fate of slavery she now faced; they only now waited for the arrival of Marcus Octavius to set the wheels in motion.

Kay didn't take his eyes of the large chunk of wood that he furiously widdled down to nothing, "It has to."

"Yeah, but what if it doesn't."

Kay stopped his attack on the wood, staring seriously down at the young knight before him. "It has to."

Lamorak sighed, looking doubtfully back to the stable arena. He had made it quite well known the night before that he distrusted the outcome of the scheme. It was too risky, especially where it concerned Elaine. Lamorak kicked at a small pebble in the dirt, glaring at it as it skipped across the large arena. Tristan was being too careless with Elaine's life; his plan put her life, and Arthur's command, in grave jeopardy. Didn't he know that?

"Tristan's a fool."

Kay snorted, "A fool that developed a way to save Elaine, single handily."

"There must be an easier way, a safer way."

"Well you sure as hell weren't thinking of anything last night."

The young knight pierced his lips, slamming his sharp dagger into the wood of the bench beside him. His eyes wandered over to Galahad, how was once again training with his large white horse, galloping circles around the arena.

"He...just doesn't care about her, that's all. Arthur had a problem, and as his scout, Tristan came up with a plan. It is his charge to always find a path for Arthur."

"Doesn't care for her," Kay said to himself, shaking his head with a smirk on his face.

"I would take her away from the Wall. Just until Rome's interests in her dies down."

A large guffaw erupted from Kay's chest, making Lamorak turn quickly and glare up at the tall, lean man.

"Yes, I think you would like to take her away, hmm. Somewhere private and secluded where you can woo her into becoming your woman. You're becoming a fool, boy. Besides, when have you ever known Rome to simply loose interest in anything that directly benefited themselves alone."

"I am no boy."

"Well, you've made it quite obvious that you adore Elaine. You wish to become her knight in shining armor?"

Lamorak scowled at Kay, his countenance suddenly becoming noble and serious, which unnerved Kay a little. Never before had he seen the young man so steadfast and honorable about anything other than his desired freedom. It was dangerous, especially since it was all because of Elaine. She seemed to have become a problem when it came to a few of the knight's hearts, Kay decided.

"Elaine is a lady, and I am a Knight. Whatever she bids of me, I will do without question. She has given life and hope back into the men's eyes, as well as mine. And because of that, she deserves my complete devotion and honor."

"Yes she brings hope to us, but are you willing to risk your life and freedom just so she will not go to Rome?"

"I would die for her, yes."

Kay stepped back. Lamorak was completely serious, and thus passed the secret test he'd just been given. Kay secretly adored Elaine just as much as the other men, but he was firstly devoted to the knights. It was a problem in his mind, to see his brothers risk their lives for her, but he was sure he'd do it in a heartbeat. Better that he was the one dying for her than his brothers. He couldn't bare seeing one of them fall, nor could he even think of seeing Elaine share the fate he had been condemned to for so long. Kay decided that instant, that if anything were to go wrong in their scheme, he'd be the one to die.

"Calm yourself, Lamorak. Tristan knows what he's doing, you should not doubt him so."

Lamorak sighed, turning back to watch Galahad once again. "I only care for what happens to Elaine. Tristan is too dangerous for her to be around."

The older knight stared down at the tiny piece of wood he'd been widdling. Tristan was indeed a dangerous man, and although he was sure Elaine could take care of herself, the scout was still very dangerous for anyone to be around.

"Oh dear god, Arthur. Please tell me you do not wear this?"

Arthur looked up from the large desk where he studied the scroll from Rome for the hundredth time that day. Elaine was by his wardrobe, holding a long red toga, with frilly gold lace on the edges. Arthur chuckled at her hilarious expression of disgust.

"Never, I promise you."

"Thank goodness."

Elaine giggled as she replaced the toga in the wardrobe gently, closing its small wooden door afterwards. She sighed with content as she wondered over towards her brother's desk, plopping herself down in a large cushioned chair across from him. She hadn't decided to spend the entire day there in his chambers, it was just that he had secluded himself there to review his papers over again.

"Oh, Arthur, you are a bore!"

His bright green eyes looked over the top of the single paper he held in his hand.

"Elaine, I'm reading."

"I know. You are a bore!"

Arthur smiled, lowering the paper onto the table, before he leaned back in his chair. He moaned as he stretched his long arms above his head, much like a tired young boy would, causing Elaine to burst into a fit of giggles.

"If I am such a bore, than why are you spending your precious time in here with me?"

Elaine shot up, "Why am I here?"

Arthur laughed, "Oh, because you love your big brother, that's why."

"Oh, yes. I forgot."

The two laughed, greatly enjoying the happy, calm moment that they were able to share together. Yet, the gravity of their situation soon bared down on both of their minds, causing a dreaded silence to ensue between them. Elaine turned to watch the burning embers in Arthur's fireplace glow a deep red. Arthur, in turn, watched his little sister. Her long brown hair was pulled back away from her face, and he could see the lovely outlines and curves of her youthful beauty. At only twenty-one years, she had already developed into a greater beauty than he'd ever seen before.

"I know of your loyalty to Rome," Elaine said, still staring deep into the fires. "I know that you serve the Empire like our father did before you, and I know that you always obey the church and the Pope. You are a good man, a good follower of God. Your devotion to his word, and to your dream of an equal republic of Rome, is as true as the skies are blue."

Arthur simply watched Elaine as she spoke, not daring to interrupt. He knew she was upset, and that it was difficult for her to say the words she spoke to him now.

"That is why," Elaine turned to face her brother directly in the eye, "I know, as well, that I ask to much of you now. To defy Rome, to defy the Pope, is too much for me to demand of you. How can I make you go against those you've pledged your life to? Can I make you go against God?"

"Not allowing you to become a slave isn't an act of defiance towards God."

"But doesn't the Pope represent the word of God? Arthur, you risk too much, you and the men."

"Elaine, do not speak of this now."

Arthur turned back down to his papers, choosing to end the conversation before it could continue further.

"Fine, than just answer me this. Would you have done the same things if I were not the Healer?"

"What are you talking about, Elaine?"

"Would you have risk your life, would the men have risked their own for what they are about to do, if the Healer was not your sister? If I was just some Celt? If I was a man?"

Arthur could do nothing but look hard into Elaine's deep, brown irises. Her questions weighed down heavily upon his mind.

"Yes," Arthur said truthfully, surprising even himself with his answer. "Every man deserves an life of freedom. Even if you were not the Healer, I think I would have helped whoever was. And so would the knights, for they could not inflict what was done to them on anyone else. Ever."

Elaine smiled, "You are a good man, Arthur. Father would be so proud."

The young commanders heart swelled at his sister's words. "And he would be proud of you, as well."

Elaine sighed as she rested back down against her chair, "That all still doesn't lift the weight that has been placed on my heart. Oh, Arthur, if we were to fail...the men would be punished... and you.."

"We will not fail."

"But if we should, if they were to find that you and the men have defied the word of Rome..."

"We will not fail."

The young woman stared deep into her brother's brilliant green eyes, "Such confidence."

Elaine sighed, raising from her seat and walking slowly behind the desk, kneeling at Arthur's side. Elaine looked up into his face, her own consumed with worry. Arthur smiled down at her, reaching to take hold of a loose strand of her hair, and tugging at it softly in a playful manner.

"Do not worry so much, love."

Elaine snorted, "Can't help it."

She stood, but not before planting a sweet kiss upon Arthur's brow. "Where are you off to?"

Elaine turned as she opened the door of his chamber room, "Oh, I promised to meet Vanora today at the Tavern. I thought it would take my mind of things if I helped her care for her little ones."

"Since when are you and Vanora best friends?"

Elaine put her finger on her chin, looking up at the ceiling as if she where deep in thought, "Since, um...the second we met."

Arthur chuckled, "That fast? Oh, no. You two, together, can do some serious damage, I'm afraid."

"Oh, and we plan to."

"Well, enjoy your time with the...um...children."

"You speak as if they were difficult?"

Arthur shook his head, making a face, "You have to find that out by yourself."

Elaine looked at him fearful causing him to laugh harder than ever.

"You brute!"

"You Woad!"

Tristan sighed as he pushed his long curved sword into its matching scabbard. Hooking it upon his armored back, he turned away from his large table that resided on the far wall of his chamber room. He double checked his weapons, placing his slender hand upon each item as he did, assuring himself that he had just about all he needed. Tristan knew that he wouldn't be gone out that long, but he never, ever went outside the fortress walls not completely prepared. Making his way swiftly over towards his door, Tristan blew out the only lit candle as he exited the chamber. Although there were many candles and lanterns placed about his room, he usually only used one or two when he was inside. It was better in the darkness. He'd always found the darkness as an exceptionally useful ally, so he chose to spend as much time as he could masked deep within it. It all just seemed more peaceful in the darkness, at least to him.

As he made his way down the long corridors of the living quarters, Tristan's thought of what all he had to do in order to set the plan in motion. He told the others the night before that he'd have to acquire a few things before they could do anything, and that was exactly what he was now preparing to do. The knights didn't seemed upset by the fact that they might have to spend their week's leave helping to save Elaine, but Tristan had made it so they hadn't have to do anything, really, until the time came. He'd managed to get all of the more important tasks delegated to himself, without causing anyone else to really notice. He smirked, imagining what the others would have said if they had noticed. Why was the scout so devoted to helping Elaine? Tristan gritted his teeth, as he exited the living quarters and made it out onto the streets. He was only doing all that he was because he didn't trust the others to get it done right, that was all. No other reason other than that.

When he entered the stables, he caught her scent before he actually saw her. Roses and evergreens. Tristan stopped in his pursuit, allowing himself to absorb her scent, before he silently turned the corner. There she was, near the back of the stalls, stroking the long nose of her white steed and speaking soothingly to calm the horse. She wore the same red work dress from the night before, but she'd draped a thick red hooded cloak about her shoulders. Her long curls were place in a very loose bun, many long strands falling down in her face. Tristan stood there, watching her silently, as he'd grown accustomed to.

"Elen silma lummen, Luka."

Tristan smirked. He liked when she spoke in the Celtic tongue. The words slipped off her lips so smoothly. Suddenly remembering his initial purpose for being there, Tristan continued towards his horse's stall. Elaine's steed sensed Tristan's presence, but did not stir.

"Your horse responds well to you."

Elaine jumped as she heard Tristan behind her. She looked up into his dark eyes, that she had become so accustomed to doing, before she smiled.

"Well, I have had Luka since he was but a pony, and I was but a little girl. I suppose we grew up with each other."

Elaine grimaced at her last remark. 'Grew up with a horse?', she thought to herself. She quickly turned back to Luka, praying to God that Tristan had not noticed. He had.

Tristan guided his gray horse out of the stall, before picking up a brush and firmly combing him down.

"Atheas was my father's war horse. I suppose we grew up with each other as well."

A smile crept over Elaine's face, before she turned to watch Tristan. She wasn't prepare, though, for the emotions that would flood into her when she saw him. As he gently groomed his horse, Tristan's eyes filled with completely peace. His messy braids fell into his face, covering his mysterious tatoos that graced the tops of his high cheekbones. Elaine couldn't help but glimpse at his figure. His broad, muscular shoulders, angled downward towards a lean, but powerful chest and abdomen. Her cheeks flushed as she realized how immodest her thoughts were.

"A great name, for a great horse."

"Atheas was the name of my father's brother. He fell in battle."

"Oh, I am sorry."

Tristan huffed, "Don't be, I didn't know him."

Elaine couldn't help but laugh at Tristan's remark, even if it was slightly morbid. She made her way slowly over towards him.

"Tristan, I want to thank you, for all that you are doing. I know that you don't have to."

"Yes, I do. Arthur commanded me to."

Elaine was slightly disappointed by his response, so she decided to end that particular conversation piece before it started.

"Oh, I forgot," Elaine suddenly reached down to her side, returning with Tristan's dagger in her palm, "This is yours."

Tristan looked down at the dagger, than slowly looked deep into her eyes. Elaine's heart thumped uncontrollably in her chest, as his eyes bore deeply into her soul. His gaze intimidated her, but excited her as well.

"Keep it."

"But I thought it was only mine to borrow?"

"Keep it, Elaine. I've got enough to deal with, besides worry whether you wander the fortress armed or not." Tristan mounted his horse, looking down at the woman before him.

Elaine slowly wrapped her fingers around the dagger, a smile gracefully making its way across her face.

"You worry about me then?"

Tristan rolled his eyes, "Much more than I would like."

As he began to guide his horse out of the stalls, Elaine ran up to catch him.

"Tristan! Where are you going?"

Tristan turned in his saddle to face her, "I have to do some hunting tonight for your little scheme."

Elaine sighed as his horse trotted quickly out of the stables. She leaned against the large door frame of the stables, watching him leave. She knew than, deep in her heart, that she care deeply for the scout. It was a strange feeling, one she hadn't felt before in her life, but one that grew stronger each time she was with him.

Just before she turned to leave, Elaine caught a glimpse of something in the sky. It was the hawk from before. Elaine stopped dead in her tracks as she watched the bird swooped down, and land gracefully upon Tristan's outstretched arm. He stroked it's soft feathers, and spoke soft words to him.

"Oh, God. Tristan?"

I know I teased you with this chapter! SORRY!

OKAY! I know I left it at another cliffhanger and that you still don't know about the plan to save Elaine, but it's in the next chapter I swear!


	20. The Storm

Okay, I just couldn't bare to have you all wonder what was going to happen, so I wrote this one quickly!

Enjoy! I loved writing this chapter.

Chapter 20

The Storm

Arthur stood proudly upon the high platform outside the main quarters of Hadrian's Wall. A sleek, large Roman carriage was just arriving through the gates and was making its way towards the courtyard where he and his Knights stood waiting. Each man stood beside him, slightly annoyed by the fact that they were made, yet again, to go through the various ceremonies ordained by Roman custom.

"I gotta piss," Bors murmured to Galahad.

The flap to the carriage entrance was thrown back, and out step a small, lanky man with a small pitch black beard, and little to no hair upon his head. The man looked over the knights, his nose pointed high in the air as he did, before he went and stood before Arthur.

"Presenting the honorable, Lord Marcus Octavius."

Just than, a tall, skinny gray haired man stepped out of the carriage, a silly smile plastered over his face. He looked over the men awkwardly, before he walked forward with his arms outstretched.

"Arthur, dear Arthur. It has been to long," Marcus stood before Dagonet, before embracing the giant of a man. Dagonet's face contorted in confusion as he silently begged the others for help.

"He's blind, that makes thing go more smoothly doesn't it?" Bors chuckled.

"It's part of the plan, and he's only nearsighted," Lancelot whispered, smirking to himself.

"Lord Octavius," Arthur strode over to the man, pulling him gently away from Dagonet, "It is good to see you once again."

Marcus Octavius, looked back and forth between the two men, blushing a little, before turning his full attention to the Roman Commander.

"Arthur, it is good to see you as well."

"Cardinal Commodous just left yesterday and he said he was saddened that he wouldn't be able to meet with you. His quarters have been prepared and are now ready to become yours for the remainder of your stay with us."

Marcus nodded, waving his hand at Arthur's words, "Yes, yes. It has been long journey, and I need rest."

"Jols will lead you to your chambers, my lord."

"Yes, very well, it is getting late," Marcus fumbled with words, but quickly turned back towards Arthur and the men, "But first, I must see the Healer."

"Of course," Arthur said, turning to look at the young maiden off to his right. The young woman jumped at his silent order, rushing quickly over to his side and bowing immediately to him and than to Marcus.

Marcus looked down upon the girl, who wore a pale blue gown that covered her whole body, and a hood pulled over her head. "Who is this?" Marcus said annoyed, pointing his finger towards the cloaked woman.

"This is Enid, a handmaiden who's charged with caring for the Healer," Arthur said, unaffected. "Enid, what is the condition of the Healer?"

The nervous girl bowed once again before speaking, "The Healer is ill, my lord. I have spent all day preparing for the journey to Rome though. The Healer will be ready."

"Can Lord Octavius see the Healer?"

"Oh, no my lord. The Healer is gravely ill, and I fear his majesty...uh..his highness...my lord will be vulnerable to disease."

Marcus's face was filled with horror, "No, not tonight then. But I wish for one of your men," he said pointing his long, bony finger at the Knights, "to guard the Healer, and this...handmaiden all night. We do not want to risk having them escape."

"Escape my lord! Oh no, my lord! I would never run away, I swear. And the Healer is to ill to move, at least I think so, my lord. I didn't actually look to closely, my lord, but I don't think..."

"Silence, fool!"

Marcus raised his hand up to slap the young girl, but Arthur quickly pushed her to him.

"Forgive Enid, my lord. Sometimes her mouth runs away from her," Arthur looked down into the deep brown eyes of the woman, "Enid, go back to the Healer's cell and see what you can do to ail his sickness."

Enid bowed, saying "Yes, my lord," before rushing off. Lamorak slipped away, following the handmaiden closely behind.

"Tristan."

The scout walked over to Arthur on his commander's bid, looking emotionlessly at the poor excuse for a man that Marcus was.

"My scout, Tristan, will keep watch over the Healer tonight. Perhaps you may visit the cell in the morning."

"Come now Arthur," Lancelot said, "Excuse me, Lord Octavius, but that Enid is nothing but a little twit, believe me I know," he said with a wink, which Marcus nervously chuckled at. "I do not think it would be too much trouble to just peer into the cell. I'll take you myself."

Marcus gave the knight a fake forced smile, which was returned by another forced smile from Lancelot.

"Very well. I'll just look. Have your scout posted at the cell as soon as I leave."

"Yes, my lord."

"Here we are, my lord."

Lancelot guided the skinny Roman into the prison barracks of the Wall. Rows of small cells lined up straight down the walls, some housed prisoners and some were vacant. Lancelot lead Marcus down to the very end, to a cell that was slightly larger than the others, with metal bars slightly thicker.

Marcus peered into the cell, holding a piece of clean linen to his nose as he did. Inside, the handmaiden, Enid, was bent over a figure cloaked from head to foot in a thick red robe. The Healer, as Marcus presumed the lump on the floor was, was turned facing the opposing wall. He had seen enough.

"Yes, well that will do very well for now."

Lancelot nodded, smirking as he did. "Of course my lord."

Marcus looked up to see the strange looking scout of Arthur enter the barracks and wandered over to a stool near its entrance. He sat there, with two fresh green apples, one he cut into with a blade, and the other simply rested on his knee.

"Shall we my lord?"

Marcus nodded to Lancelot, and made his way quickly outside, trembling under the terrifying look he was receiving from the scout. Lancelot smirked at the cowardly man, then turned to look into the cell. Enid stood staring at him, her hand resting on the fallen figure on the ground. Before he followed Marcus out the door, Lancelot slyly winked at the maiden with his famous smirk.

A dark, ominously quiet night set in, covering Hadrian's Wall in pitch darkness. Very few people were about, and Arthur, Lord Marcus, and the Sarmatian Knights, beside Tristan, had all went to bed. A tall, brown haired drunk with a bottle of ale clutched tightly in his hand, wandered the streets near the courtyard which still held the carriage of Lord Octavius, but the guards just chuckled.

Just than, a scream rang out across the night air. Soon, torches began to spark up as people flew out of the living quarters. Arthur, Dagonet, Lamorak, Lancelot and Bors, were soon joined by Lord Octavius just outside the gates of courtyard. Marcus screamed as he saw his precious carriage bursting into flames. Arthur held Excalibur at his side.

"What has happened, Arthur?" Marcus screeched as his attendant helped him stay on his feet.

"I do not know."

"AHHHHHH. HELP!"

"SHIT, ARHTUR LOOK!" Bors yelled, pointing towards a bearded young man with an arrow in his back. The man's face was hidden by a cloak, as he stumbled across the courtyard and fell at Arthur's feet. Marcus screeched at the sight as the man reached up and grasped at his leg, before falling down dead.

"HELP!"

Arthur ran over to another man, with long blonde hair, clutching at his side where a dagger was embedded.

"What has happened?"

"I...I was walking home...and ...I was...attacked...ARGH!"

Arthur placed his hand on the man's shoulder, "Who has done this?"

"The...the..."

Marcus and the other knights soon joined Arthur.

"The...the Healer has...escaped...killed...the ...Enid."

Suddenly the man fell over dead, just as the other one had. Marcus screeched again, raising the skirts of his night robes so the would not be touched by the dead man.

"OH DEAR LORD! ARTHUR, THE HEALER IS LOOSE?"

Arthur looked around desperately, searching for a reason for the attack, and a way to stop it.

"Come, we will go to the barrack, and find Tristan."

The men raced, and in Marcus's case, pranced, towards the barracks. Just than, a hooded figure raced by, pushing Arthur down as it made for the open gates that lead outside the fortress. Arthur fell to the ground with a loud thump, and his men raced over to help him.

Marcus screeched, "The Healer, oh god! Do not let the Healer escape!"

Suddenly, Tristan raced by on his gray horse, nearly trampling Marcus as he went by, who had to jump out of the way. He held a bow in his hand, as his horse galloped towards the gate, and he notched an arrow as quick as lightening. The screeching off a hawk in the night sky rang out, and as if on cue, the cloaked Healer stopped just outside the gates, facing the oncoming scout. Tristan let loose the arrow, which soared through the air. The men watched as the Healer swooped his arm across his chest, just before the arrow struck him. The Healer fell backwards to the ground with a thud, dead on impact.

Arthur moved over to the trembling Marcus, how lay on the ground with his hands over his head.

"Is...Is...it over?"

"Yes, my lord, but I'm afraid Tristan had to kill in order to stop the Healer."

Marcus looked over to see Tristan dismount and wandered slowly over to the fallen body of the Healer.

"Come, Lord Octavius," Arthur said, helping the man to stand, "I'll escort you to your chambers myself."

Marcus nodded, "I think I will be leaving tomorrow as planned."

Arthur nodded back, "As you wish, my lord. I regret that you could not receive what you had come here for."

Marcus scrunched up his nose in disgust at the dead Healer, before turning towards the chambers, "It is a blessing, I suppose, that a savage beast like that did not step foot in Rome."

Arthur emerged silently from the living quarters sometime later and made his way into the courtyard. Once there, he looked about before saying, "Alright, it's over now."

Suddenly, the two dead men that lay in the courtyard, jumped up, dusting the dirt of their clothes.

"You sure took a long time," Gawain grumbled, as he pulled the dagger from his side where it was embedded in a pillow within his shirt.

"Yeah," Galahad said, wiping the blood red wine from his lips, "It gets cold out here fast, especially when your dead."

Arthur smiled at the men, chuckling softly.

"How was the fire show?" Kay said, as he threw the empty bottle of ale over his shoulder.

"Good, but I didn't remember telling you to let the entire carriage burn to the ground," Arthur said, as a smiling Bors, Lancelot, Lamorak, and Dagonet joined them.

"Yeah, well I don't like the bastard."

"Who does?" Dagonet said, resting his hands on his hips.

"Did it work?"

The knights turned to see Elaine and Tristan walk up from the gates.

"Yes, Elaine it did," Lancelot smirked, "Or should I say Enid? Or maybe The Healer?"

"Hey, I was the Healer for a bit too, remember?" Lamorak spoke up.

Galahad chuckled, "Yeah, the ill, fallen lump in the cell Healer."

Arthur looked proudly over towards Tristan, "Well done."

Tristan just nodded, before he looked down at Elaine beside him. She looked right back and smiled. Elaine quickly held up a fresh green apple, with one of Tristan's large arrows pierces through the middle.

"Good thing we've practiced that before, huh?" Tristan whispered.

Elaine laughed, before she plucked the arrow from the apple, taking a large bite and chewing slowly. The men all laughed and began to make their way to bed.

This chapter was so much fun to write, and I love how this entire scheme was concocted by Tristan! Yes, there is certainly more than meets the eyes when it comes to the scout! He's brillant! And I loved how the knights had their own parts to play!


	21. Healer of Hadrian's Wall

I'm glad you all enjoyed the last two chapters! Enjoy this one and tell me what you think!

Chapter 21

The Healer of Hadrian's Wall

Elaine smiled as she watched Vanora change her youngest, tickling his tiny limbs as the baby cooed. Vanora was a wonderful mother; she was firm, but kind and more loving than anyone. There were slight things that she did that reminded Elaine of Isolde, and more importantly, her own mother. Elaine sighed, tapping her fingers on the large table before her. Seeing Vanora and her babe interacting so beautifully made Elaine worry a little bit. She had always loved children, even when she was one herself. Elaine smirked, as Vanora lifted the newly changed and giggling babe into the air. She had even thought of possible names for her own children, if she ever did give birth, when she was fourteen years old. And of the father, Elaine used to imagine what he would look like, if he was kind and gentle, brave, if he made her laugh, made her smile. It was a silly, girlish thing she'd indulge in when she wasn't busy learning the ways and practices of healers with Isolde, or training with Gaelan.

Vanora caught Elaine's far-off look, as she set 10 in his the tiny bed Bors had crafted first for 1.

"What's on you mind, hmm," Vanora said with a mischievous smile, sitting down across from Elaine. "Perhaps it's a certain, brash Knight, with curly black locks and dark eyes?"

Elaine gasped, "Lancelot?"

"Yes, silly. You two fight like you're already married."

"MARRIED? TO LANCELOT?"

Vanora's bright laughter filled the room. "I have never seen that man more interested in a woman, actually interested, until you came along. I think he really likes you."

Elaine's eyes grew wide, and she shook her head. Lancelot, liked her?

"Oh, Van, you really are insane."

The two women giggled. "I'm serious! And you want to know how I know?"

Elaine sighed, waving her hand in the air, "Fine, if it will appease you."

Vanora stuck her tongue out, before continuing. "Because, Lancelot, the knight that has known every silly wench here, hasn't taken a woman to his bed seen you've come to the Wall."

At her words, Elaine gulped, looking with wide, confused eyes at Vanora's cheeky expression. Many times in the past, the men had hinted to her of Lancelot's womanizing manners, and she often joined in on teasing the cocky knight about such things. She even saw his flirtatious behavior just as often, especially in those certain occasions that she had felt herself the target of his affections. But she never took him too seriously. Was he trying, in his own manner, to win her adoration and, eventually, love? Elaine could not deny that she did have some feelings towards the knight, similar to the ones she had for the scout, though slightly different in comparison.

"Well...What Lancelot does, or does not do with his own time is of no concern to men, I can assure you of that."

Vanora narrowed her eyes at the younger woman, who within just two days had become closer to her than a younger sister to her.

"Yeah, and I'm a Princess of Rome!"

Elaine burst into laughed as she watched Vanora stand suddenly, lifting her head up high in the air and walking towards the small kitchen of her tiny house with a dignified air.

"I am sorry to hear that I am of no concern to you, dear lady."

Elaine jumped and whipped around to see Lancelot himself standing in the doorway of the house. His gentle smirk rested upon his face, and his happy, intense eyes bore into Elaine. She trembled as he looked at her.

"That's not what I meant...you..I...um.Why were you eavesdropping?"

Lancelot laughed hard, walking slowly into the room, and sitting in the chair that Vanora had previously occupied. Elaine couldn't meet his intense gaze, but only played with her mother's pendent in a nervous manner. Lancelot looked her up and down, than plucked a grape from the bowl of fruit that lay on Vanora's table. As he popped the piece into his mouth, the knight sat back in the chair, still staring intently at the woman across from him. Elaine squirmed under his gaze, her uncomfortableness not going unnoticed by Lancelot. He enjoyed making her fidgety. It was sort a way he could get her angry, which always made her start at him. Their little confrontations were usually very heated, and very interesting. He supposed he was a little bit of a masochist, in that sense.

"Would you stop that."

There she went.

"Stop what?" Lancelot said, looking innocent as he raised his hands up in the air.

Elaine narrowed her eyes, glaring as hard as she could, "You know what!"

"I assure you, my lady. I don't."

Sighing exasperately, Elaine dropped her mother's pendent onto her chest, "You are such a...I don't even think their a words to describe you."

Lancelot sat up, "Oh Elaine, you are too kind."

"You're annoying, and brash, and infuriating, and ..."

"I didn't know you cared."

"And a smartass."

"Good Gods, Elaine! Such language should never be uttered out of those lovely lips of yours."

Elaine sat up in her chair, leaning over the table as she did, challenging Lancelot. His smirk drifted across his features, as he too, leaned over the table, meeting her challenge with one of his own. Their faces were mere inches away from each other, but Elaine didn't even flinch. She was in fighter mode, cool and alert, ready for anything the Knight might throw at her.

"You know what you are. You are a selfish, egoistical swine, who uses his good looks and slick, but obvious, charms to attract poor, gullible women, merely to satisfy your own lustful needs. You use women like you use a piece of clothing, throwing it out when you tire off it or when it is old and dirty..."

"Old and dirty..." Lancelot chuckled.

"And I think that you use this reputation as a womanizing cad, this lady's man that women want and men want to be, in order to hide something deep inside. Some secret, some insecurity, something that you have to build up a front in order to protect whatever it is. What is it Lancelot? What do you keep inside? Is it a hope or dream? A fear? What makes you act the way you do? I know it isn't really who you are, not the real you. Why do you keep that man hidden? I know he is a good and honorable man. You should let him out once and awhile."

Lancelot could only glare, his knuckles white as he gripped at the table. He was fuming, anger flowing through his eyes. Jaw tightening, he leaned in even closer, causing Elaine's brave front slip a little in intimidation. His heart beat hard in his chest, as his anger grew more and more.

"Who do you think you are, hmm? What makes you think you know anything about me at all? You come into our lives suddenly, instantly befriending the men, and brightening up Arthur's life once again. But what do we really know about you? What do we know about your past? You walk about the place, your head held high, acting like some do-good princess that everyone is supposed to love and adore, but what do we know of your intentions? Elaine, the princess. No one is that good. Tell me, hmm? Tell me how many men you've killed, princess. Tell me why you act like you're so perfect, some Christian saint. What are you hiding?"

Lancelot stopped when he saw tears form in her eyes, and saw her lip quiver slightly. He knew that he'd hit a nerve. But she had done the same only moments before. Elaine straightened up in her chair, but did not look away.

"I hide nothing, Sir Lancelot. But you are rightabout one thing: you know nothing about me."

Lancelot sat back in his chair, secretly chided himself for insulting her integrity.

"I hide nothing. I am who I appear to be."

"Sure."

Elaine stood suddenly, pushing the chair away from her as she did, and made her way over towards the kitchen where Vanora stood, baby on her hip. She'd watched with great interest the confrontation that occurred between the two young people.

"I promised to meet Arthur, and I'm afraid I'm running late," Elaine said, placing a kiss on Vanora's cheek, which the latter returned at the same time, giving her friend a sympathetic look.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Van. And I apologize, Sir Knight. You're right, I have no right to judge you."

Lancelot's smirk instantly disappeared as she nodded, leaving the house before he could respond. He groaned.

"You ass!"

Vanora slapped the knight with a rag, as she went passed him.

"What? She insulted me."

"No, she just got at you, read you like a scroll, and that unnerved you. You've never had a woman get at you, and it frightened you."

Lancelot stared at the table, letting Vanora's words sink in. She was right, no matter how much he hated it.

Elaine wiped the tears from her cheek when she heard the knock at her door. Checking her reflection, she made her way over toward the door. It was her brother, she knew. His smile slowly appeared as the soft light from her room gracefully illuminated his features.

Elaine chuckled, despite the sadness that had consumed her only moments before, "What are you up to, little boy?"

Arthur took her hand, pulling her from her room without a single word. She gasped, closing the door behind her, as he dragged her through the corridors of the living quarters. As they made their way, the Roman commander leading his sister swiftly, Elaine had to practically jog to keep up with Arthur's long strides. She grew breathless rather quickly, brought on more by her excitement than the excursion she faced.

"Arthur? Where are we going?" Elaine gasped.

He only turned to smirk at her, before turning back towards the direction in which they were going.

"Arthur!"

Without turning to address her, Arthur silenced her, "If you ask, than you'll only ruin the surprise."

Elaine giggled, as they raced through the corridors. Soon they were joined by Lamorak who walked beside her with a smile on his face.

"Lamorak, do you know anything about where we're going?"

"Elaine!" Arthur said firmly.

Lamorak shook his head, "I'd loose my head if I told. Sorry."

Before she knew what was going on, the three entered into a long narrow hallway, brightly lit by torches that ran down the entire length of the hall. Arthur lead her to the very end of the hall, to a small wooden door. Outside the door, Dagonet and Gawain sat down upon a long, cushioned bench that sat just across from the door. Galahad, who leaned up against the opposing wall with a grinning Kay, greeted her as she approached. Each man's face was plastered with a warm smile.

Elaine's eyebrow cocked up, "Okay, what have you all done know, hmm? You've already had to outsmart Rome, what other trouble could you've gotten into so soon."

"Nothing that we couldn't handle."

Elaine turned to see an approaching Lancelot. He smiled genuinely at her, silently asking her forgiveness. She smiled back, looking beyond him to see Bors follow behind, grinning as he clutched a pitcher of what she assumed would be ale in his hand. Looking beyond him, Elaine's heart jumped. Tristan strode behind them both, biting into a bright red apple. She waited for him to look at her, with those eyes, waited for him to look at her as he did sometimes. The look that made her weak, that made her question herself. But he just moved to lean against the wall, looking unaffected as he sliced into his apple.

Arthur drew her attention away from the scout, as he took her hand in his, smiling down at her with a smile that reached his eyes, and warmed her heart.

"You have touched all of our lives, Elaine, in only a few days. Your kindness and your friendship seems to give hope to the men, and to myself as well. That is why we had this prepared for you."

Before she could speak, Gawain reached forward, opening the door. Inside was a medium sized room, brightly lit by a roaring fireplace and sporadic lanterns about the room. Elaine gasped as she entered, for she knew instantly what the room was intended to be. Two large beds rested against one wall, parted by a small side table. Across from her, a large cupboard and table was filled with her jars and tools, her herbs and medicines arranged careful about, and her large mortar and pestle resting on top of a cabinet with fresh bandages and linens were. There was a cauldron placed near the fire place, and a small desk and chair sat on the other side of the fire, near the door.

"Oh, dear lord," Elaine put her hand to her mouth. Tears of joy filled her eyes as she turned back to the men, who had each entered the room behind her.

Arthur went to his sister.

"Now," he said, like a father would to his daughter, "you may only have it on one condition."

Elaine chuckled, "And what is that?"

Arthur took her hand in his, bringing it up to rest on his heart. "You have to stay here. And you must become the healer of Hadrian's Wall."

Elaine smiled, looking back at the men.

"Yes," Galahad said, "because you have to earn your keep."

"Can't have you running around annoying us all the time," Kay said, chuckling as he did.

"It'll keep ya busy," Bors added.

Elaine smiled, clasping her hands to her mouth so that she wouldn't cry in front of them.

"So, is that a yes?" Lancelot said, the smile still remaining.

Elaine smiled, looking back at Arthur, than back at the men. That was when she caught Tristan's eyes. He stared right at her, apple down at his side, completely still but showing no emotion. Elaine looked back into his eyes, drowning in them. In his eyes, Elaine thought that she saw a slight eagerness, as if he waited desperately for her to answer. She silently chided herself for her foolish and wishful thinking. But, when she gave them her answer, she didn't once take her eyes from Tristan's.

"Yes."

Arthur laughed, scooping her up into his arms, and swirling her around in his embrace. She squealed, before he let her down, kissing her forehead as he did.

"But, if I am to be your healer, than I must insist that have a few more essential items."

Arthur frowned, looking about the room quickly, before he looked back down at her. "Have I forgotten anything?"

Elaine giggled, cupping his face as she did. "No, I did. I'm going to have to go out tonight and gather some herbs and seeds that I'll need. I'll go out by the woods with Luka."

Elaine was surprised when the frown on her brother's face didn't disappear.

"Elaine, it is too dangerous to go by yourself. Even if you are trained, you do not know these lands well yet, making you more vulnerable. I cannot take you tonight."

The men frowned as well, because they too found that they had various things to attend to as well that night. Elaine greatly wanted to go then, but there was no way they would let her go alone. Not so near the Woad forests.

"I'll go."

The others whipped around to the scout, who sat on another bench like the one outside, completely aloof as he stared into the same red apple he was still carving into. Arthur nodded.

"There, Tristan will go with you."

Elaine smiled at her brother, but couldn't look at the scout. Her heart beat fast in her chest. She couldn't bare to look for fear that she might giggle. Acting like a silly little girl, would simply give her away.


	22. Healing Hands

Chapter 22

Healing Hands

The hoof beats of the two stallions racing through the gates of Hadrian's Wall, sounded out through the late afternoon air. A gray steed lead a white one into the grassy valley just outside the fortress, as the gleam of the late sun shone brightly down upon the riders. Tristan rode hard, as he was accustomed to doing, but occasionally glanced over his shoulder to the lady behind him, making sure she was able to keep up with his steady pace. It didn't surprise him to see that Elaine was right on his tail, or Atheas's, her bright white horse, Luka, matching the speed of the beast in front of him. Turning back to the valley before him, Tristan smirked to himself. She'd obviously been trained in proper horsemanship as well. Had the Celts not taught her something?

Before long, the two riders came upon the edge of the lush, dark forests that bordered the valleys outside the fortress. They slowed their steeds, and Tristan leapt to the ground with an agile grace, making Elaine smile to herself. He wasn't like any man she had ever met before in her entire life.

Tristan's dark, alert eyes scanned the various entrances of the forests, his ears perking up at even the slightest sound. Elaine jumped down from Luka, stroking his mane, before unlatching the empty sacks and her gathering basket. She wore a forest green gown, that she usually wore when she went out to gather supplies, which had a brown belt that held a small utility knife at her side. Her brown tresses were held back from her eyes in green ribbons, gifts from Isolde, so that she could do her work without the constant distraction of brushing the loose strands back. 

"I don't know why you wore that. Especially when riding."

Elaine turned to see that Tristan stood behind her, pointing down at her thick gown dress with the tip of his dagger, before he set it in its sheath at his side. Her eyes drifted downward for a moment, her fingers gripping at the skirts of her gown, before she looked right back up into his eyes again. She tilted her head up defiantly, but overestimated the space between her and the scout. Elaine's lips were mere inches from Tristan's. Her breathing became labored, and her hands began to tremble that she had to squeeze them together. But she didn't back down, not even for a single second.

"Because it is warm and the skirts are large enough so that I may use them to gather herbs in them."

Tristan suddenly drew even closer to her, his lips so close that he only had to bend down only a inch or two to capture her quivering pink lips. Elaine's eyes grew wide, as she stared up at the scout, unsure of what she should or could do. Then, his arm reached up, extending over her right shoulder, the roughness of his sleeve brushing the creamy skin of her neck. She couldn't help but gasp. Tristan's eyes. They held something within them, something she was too unexperienced to detect. 

Suddenly, Tristan brought his arm back, and Elaine realized that he was holding her other gathering basket. He'd reached behind her at unhooked it from Luka's saddle.

"That's what this is for."

Elaine huffed, grabbing the basket from his hand. "Thanks," she mumbled as she walked passed him quickly, making her way into the forest. Tristan suddenly sprinted to her side in an instant, taking her arm.

"Not so fast."

Elaine rolled her eyes. They entered the forest together, quickly immersed in its musty darkness. 

After an hour a good searching and collecting, Elaine found that she'd come up with a substantial amount of herbs and seeds, and other various things she'd need for making medicines and ointments. She sat upon the earth, using her tiny knife to strip feverfew plants from the ground. She shook the loose dirt from the plant, before setting it in her basket. Tristan watched her intently from where he loomed over, leaning against a tree just a few feet away. He looked about them from time to time, scanning the forest for any animals or woads, though he often made no distinction between the two. In fact, he probably held animals a few steps above woads in importance.

"What are you thinking about?"

Tristan's eyes shot back to Elaine, who sat looking up at him as she cut the yellow flowers from the plants she held, separating them each in two piles on her skirt. 

"What?"

"I bet I can tell what you're thinking," she smiled, although he seemed only slightly affected by her words.

"Really?"

"Yes. You're thinking that you have much better things to be doing at this moment, than being here in these woods. That you'd rather be with someone else, doing something else."

He huffed, picking at his still bandaged hand with the tip of his dagger. "Um...no that's what you were thinking."

She stood, leaving her herbs and baskets at the ground. She looked at him, than looked out back towards the fortress.

"No. No, I was thinking that I was wrong."

"Wrong about what?"

She turned to him, her eyes deep with emotion. He stopped messing with his hand, hefting himself off the tree, and closing the distance between them. He looked at her, than turned to look back at the fortress, just as she had. The two stood there side by side, together, staring at the Wall, which was darkened by the setting sun that sunk in the sky behind it. It seemed that it glowed in the distance. To Tristan, it was a prison, but to Elaine, it was her home, now.

"I was wrong when I thought that you were just another one of the knights."

"But I am just one of the other knights."

"No," she said, shaking her head with a chuckle. "No, not you Tristan. You are...different."

"Should I take that as a compliment?"

Elaine turned to him, "Yes, I suppose. You are different from any man I've ever met before. Much more complex, and much more aggravating...but, much more than anything I've ever known."

She blushed when he looked back at her, his eyes examining her closely. She turned back to the fortress, unable to stand to be under his heated gaze any longer.

He chuckled, actually chuckled, as he too turned back towards the view before them. "See, that's what I was thinking, about you."

Elaine smile reappeared over he face again, the blush that resided only in her cheeks previously, spreading further. When she dared to glance back at him again, she noticed him probing at his hand, that appeared to be carelessly bandage, with one of his smaller daggers. She gasped, causing him to look up questionably at her.

"What?"

She reached for his hand, which he of course moved quickly from her grasp. "Tristan! What have you done to your hand?"

"Nothing. Come one, let's get back."

"Oh, no. Let me see."

He groaned, or growled, she couldn't quite determine which. 

"Elaine, let's go."

She placed her hands on her hips, staring back him sternly. "I will go no where until you let me see your hand."

He sighed, "So you're going to stay here all night? Fine."

"Fine."

He growled again, she knew this time it was a growl. He advanced towards her, his height towering over her.

"If you don't come now, all lift you over my shoulder and carry you back."

Elaine's eyes narrowed, "You wouldn't dare."

Tristan shrugged his shoulders, "Suit yourself." Before she could react, Tristan reached down and quickly hefted her over his shoulder, heading back towards the horses. At first, she lay frozen over his shoulder, but soon recovered. He grunted when her knee connected with his gut, causing him to drop her. It hadn't hurt him, which he knew she hadn't intended it to, only caught him of guard. Off guard, for the first time in his life. Tristan clutched at his stomach, kneeling on the ground to catch his breathe. When he did, he realized that his other hand was in hers, as she knelt before him, examining his hand.

"You little cat."

She smiled, as she peeled away the bandages, gasping when she saw the redness surrounding the slowly healing lesions.

"Tristan, how did you do this?"

He didn't answer only stared back at her.

"They could get infected. You should have told me. They'll need to be treated daily for at least the next two weeks."

"How?"

"Well, I'll have to wrap them in clean bandages, for starters. They'll need to be soaked every morning and evening and then I'll apply some aloe ointment to them before wrapping them."

Tristan groaned. 

"What?"

"I don't...want to be.."

Elaine chuckled, "What? Is our mysterious scout nervous about the other men seing you all bandgaged and pampered by the healer, hmm?"

Tristan glared at her, standing quickly to leave. He only stopped when he felt her gentle warm palm resting on his elbow. If it had been anyone else, he would have shook them off, and left, but it was her. This annoyed Tristan even more.

"Tristan wait! Forgive me. The men don't even have to know. I'll make the bandages look inconspious, and we can meet early in the morning and late at night so no one will be around. Please, Tristan."

The scout sighed, "Fine."

Elaine smiled, than walked back slowly to here herbs and baskets. Tristan made to follow her, until he heard a twig snap in the distance. He froze.

"Elaine?"

She looked up, smiling at his dark form, which stood before the setting sun in the distance behind him.

"It's time to go."

"But I.."

"Time to go."

Tristan loaded the last sack over the top of Luka's saddle, tightening the straps quickly, before circling the horse. He sighed when he had made a complete circle, and looked back at Elaine. Stroking Luka's snow-white mane, he watched as she slipped the brown riding boots back on her feet. 

"Well, I guess there's only one way Luka," he whispered to the steed, patting it's side before walking towards Elaine.

She looked up at him when he neared her. Elaine grabbed her other boot, and began to step into it.

"Ready?"

He held her arm as she shakingly stepped into the last boot, and she steadied herself, leaning onto his shoulder.

"Yeah, but you can't ride Luka."

"What? Why?"

"He's got to much of your packs on him. You'll have to ride with me back to the Wall."

Elaine froze. Riding back on Tristan's horse, feeling him so near her, was something Elaine wasn't sure she could handle. She feared that her heart would explode before they ever reached the fortress. If not that, then she'd surely be giggling uncontrollably.

"Oh, alright."

The wind blew loose strands of Elaine's hair into her face, as Tristan's gray steed tore across the valley towards the Wall. His arms rested infront of her, inclosing her into a safe cage. As they rode, Tristan couldn't help himself. He took advantage of their required closeness, to take deep inhales of her scent. Suddenly, on of the green silk ribbons holding her hair, slipped away in the wind, completely unnoticed by their owner. As fast as a wild cat, Tristan snatched the ribbon in mid air. He tucked it away in his sleeve.

Arthur was waiting in the stables, leaning against the benches with Kay and Lancelot. They all looked up when Elaine and Tristan entered the stables, on Tristan's horse. Arthur smiled, jumping down to the ground. Lancelot and Kay exchanged glances. Kay chuckled and smile. Lancelot's hands clenched at the sight of Tristan's hand resting on Elaine's stomach as they passed by. He glared after them, before hopping down with Arthur. 

Kay shook his head, chuckling to himself. "I'm I the only one here that sees anything at all."

Lancelot helped Elaine carry the sacks back to the living quarters, and Arthur made to join them but was stopped by Tristan's hand on his shoulder.

"Yes, Tristan? What is it?"

The scout's face was dark, "Arthur. There were Woads in the woods tonight, ten or twenty surrounded us."

Arthur became stern. "How many did you have to kill?"

"None."

"They did not ambush?"

"No. They just watched us."

Arthur's eyebrow cocked up in confusion, "When has a band of woads never ambushed? What do you think they were waiting for?"

Tristan's jaw tightened, "They weren't going to ambush at all. I think they were watching Elaine."

"Elaine?"

"Yeah. Arthur, I think they want her for some reason. Remember the day she killed the two of them by the carriage?"

"They were trying to take her to Merlin."

Tristan nodded at his commander's sudden relevation. The two men stood in silence to a few moments.

Arthur nodded, placing his hand on Tristan's shoulder.

"Thank you, Tristan. She doesn't go out of the fortress walls, except when she has two of us with her."

Tristan nodded in return, "Yes, Arthur."

He opened the chamber door slowly, hearing it creaking quietly. The rooms were almost entirely dark, all except the bedchamber. He entered, closing the door silently behind him, as he wandered towards the dimly lit room before him. He wasn't supposed to be there. Arthur would kill him. But he just keep walking into her chambers, making no sound whatsoever. Her bedchamber was lit by a small lamp that stood near the huge bed in the middle of the room. Pale white silk curtains almost hid her sleeping form from his sight. He neared her bed, gazing down upon her with hungry eyes. Slowly, he passed his fingers along the curtains, drawing them away. His breathe was caught in his chest when he laid his eyes on her form; her brown tresses lay fanned out above her head, her lovely face glowing in the lamplight, her mother's pendent shining as well, and her creamy smooth shoulders exposed by an off the shoulder chemise nightgown. His fingers ached to touched the warmth of her soft body through the silk of her chemise. His mouth grew dry, as he lowered him self done into her forbidden bed. He ran his fingers along her perfect jawbone, savoring the softness. His lids slid closed as he felt her warm skin.

"Tristan?"

His eyes shot open at her whisper. She stared up at him with gentle, and to his surprise, welcoming eyes.

"I..."

Elaine lifted up, placing her hand to his lips to silence him. They stared deeply into one another's dark eyes. He moaned when he felt her fingers begin to move slowly across his lips, feeling their featherlike touches. His arms wrapped around her small form instantly, and she gasped when her breasts collided into his powerful chest. Her chest heaved up and down, teasing Tristan, as he felt her heartbeat against his own.

"Kiss me."

Tristan caught her lips with his, moaning again when he felt her move into his lap. She gasped when she felt his tongue stroke against her soft lips, and parted them to allow him entrance into her mouth. He explored her sweetness, savoring the feeling of her lips on his, her arms around his neck. 

Tristan shot out of bed with a start, sweat pouring down his naked chest. He panted, staring about his chambers. It was a dream. Her body against his. A dream. Tristan buried his head in his hands, growling fiercely. He tossed the blankets off of him, grabbing the dagger from under his pillow and launching it into the wall with a terrible cry. 

He jumped out of his bed, throwing on a loose shirt and busting out of his door. He stalked down the knight's hallway, turning the corner quickly, with the grace and ferociousness of a wild cat. But when her made it too her chamber door, Tristan collapsed. His back fell against the door, sweat still falling down his body and chilling him in the night air. She had destroyed him. She'd injured him more deeply than he'd ever been before, and she hadn't even lifted a finger.

Tristan sighed, looking down at his opened palms. In one hand, fresh bandages were wrapped around his healing wounds. In the other, lay Elaine's green ribbon. 


	23. Call of Duty

I'm going back to school soon, so updating chapters might be a little slow. But I promise to be good

Enjoy!

Chapter 23

Call of Duty

Arthur sighed, dropping the scroll that he held to his side. Stroking his aching head, he tried to imagine what his life would have been like had he not been Roman. He chuckled sarcastically to himself, for it was too hard to think of another life, free from the constraints of Rome. A life he could live carefree, worshipping God and doing his good will peaceably. But it was useless.

Arthur heard the men's laughter in the Great Hall even before he reached to open the door. Nine pairs of eyes looked up at his arrival. He nodded as usual, before making his way along the side of the Round Table towards his delegated seat. A bright grin met him when he came upon his place, and Arthur couldn't help but smile boyishly back at Elaine. It had been a sort of silent agreement among all the men that Elaine should be allowed to sit with them in the Great Hall, as they met for each council. Arthur had established the Table for the purpose of gaining each trusted man's advice, to act as a forum where everyone had a voice. He'd wanted his most trusted friends to be there with him, and who else would have just as much of his respect and trust than Elaine. She deserved to be there.

"Well, Arthur?"

Arthur was brought back into the room, away from his thoughts, by Dagonet's voice. He smiled at the man, who was still holding the bandages Elaine had given him to practice with. Dagonet had gone to her, expressing his great interest in the world of healing, and she'd naturally taken him under her wing. Arthur was surprised to see the giant of a man that anxious to begin, but Elaine had told him that he'd better learn to properly wrap bandages first before he tackled anything more challenging.

"Men, we have been ordered to inspect the Western edge of the Wall. It has been reported that several villages have been attacked by the Woads and burnt to the ground. Our orders are to secure the area and help rebuild certain villages if we can."

Bors groaned, "Oh I hate manual labor." Gawain snorted.

"We leave tomorrow, at dawn."

Elaine sighed, shoving her blood red cloak into her sack, before turning towards the door. She blew out the candles that were arranged all around her chamber, before going out the door and into the darkness of the hall. There was still so much to be done; she had to wash and brush down Luka, add some extra medicines and supplies to her pack, than she had to see Jols about new straps for her saddle that had come loose. Elaine exhaled as she exited the long hallway, blowing strands of her loose hair straight up into the air. She made her way towards the Tavern, where she knew she'd find Vanora busy at work.

Surely enough, Vanora was working away, serving a large, and rowdy, crowd of Roman guards who must have had the night off. Elaine groaned, looking down at her tight long tunic, and even tighter riding pants. She really didn't need the stares and catcalls she knew she would receive if she strode up to Vanora, and pass the group of half-drunken men. Drawing herself up close to the dark corners of the Tavern, Elaine slowly crept by the men, trying as hard as she could to not draw any unnecessary and unwanted attention. She was peering so hard at the men as she went by that she didn't see the figure in front of her until she bumped right into it's strong frame. Elaine grunted, looking up into Tristan's dark eyes. She stepped back, unsure of what she should do. Tristan's hand was holding her arm firmly, his eyes traveling up and down her form. Elaine suddenly grew nervous under his gaze, but at the same time, something deep within her awoke.

"Where are you going, little one?"

"Little one?" Elaine's eyebrow rose, "Choose your words wisely, scout. For they may be your last"  
Tristan smirked, letting his grasp on her arm loosen a little, but he still held her. Elaine smiled up at the knight, into his expressionless face. She realized she had been doing that a lot as of late.

"Well, you just aren't one to be lurking in the shadows."

"Oh, I suppose the shadows are reserved for you alone."

Tristan contemplated this, looking up into the air slightly, as he chewed a piece of an apple. Than he looking back down into Elaine's amused eyes, surprising himself as he played along in her little game.

"Yeah, they are."

Elaine giggled, turning back at the crowd. "I was only trying to slip through to Vanora unnoticed."

Tristan huffed, slipping a sliver of apple slowly into his mouth. "Yeah. You can never go through a room unnoticed."

Elaine froze, her heart erupting in a racing pace, as the words that dripped from the scout's lip rang in her ears. Her eyes darted back up into his, and she stared into the dark, mysterious brown orbs, losing herself forever. 'Oh, God help me,' she thought as she was consumed once again by Tristan's presence.

Tristan stared back down at her for a moment, before slipping the rest of his apple into her hand. She raised her palm up, as her eyes dropped hesitantly to the small gift he had just given her.

"You haven't eaten tonight."

And with that, Tristan drifted back into the shadows, disappearing from her sight as he made his way out the door and to the stables, where she presumed he be going. Elaine sighed, bringing the fruit up to her lips. Her teeth slowly broke the skin, delving deep into the sweetness that lay inside. It's nectarous juices flowed down her throat, making her eyes close slightly, as she savored it's goodness. Elaine swore that the apple she ate that night, was the best tasting thing she'd ever come across her entire life.

"Come now, Lamorak. If you don't tell Arthur, then I will."

Lamorak's head shot up from behind the stall door that housed his black steed, and he glared at Gawain who sat arranging several piles of arrows on the ground before him.

Arthur let out a chortle, as he neared Lamorak's stall, wiping his hands with a red rag. Lancelot smirked at the youngest knight, sharing a quick amused glance with Kay.

"Tell me what?"

"Nothing, Arthur," Lamorak said, trying to sound as assuring as he could manage. "Gawain is just drunk."

"No I am not. Arthur, Lamorak's in love."

"What?" Arthur chuckled, leaning his shoulder against the wooden beam.

"What's all this?" Bors said, his attention quickly grabbed by Gawain's mention of Lamorak's affections. "Our little boy has fallen with the sickness, eh? Poor boy, ya betta see Elaine about that one."

Galahad snorted, dropping his sheathed sword upon the ground. Gawain beamed back at the angered Lamorak, whose face was transforming in a million shades of red. Tristan looked up from where he sat in the raised benches, as he restrung his bow.

"Don't know how much that will help," Dagonet joined in.

"It will only worsen the disease, I'm afraid," Lancelot said, winking at Arthur who still stood before the other men, completely lost.

"I'm sure we can do fine without all nine knights, right," Lamorak said glaring around at each knight, "I mean, we really only need three or four. Might as well kill off a few."

Arthur shook his head, "No, Lamorak. Tell me what's going on here."

Lamorak's lips pressed down hard together, as his head dropped to the ground.

"Lamorak is in love with Elaine, Arthur. Isn't obvious?" Lancelot said, slapping his commander's shoulder as he went by.

"Elaine? My Elaine?"

"Who else?"

Tristan stared down upon the young knight, watching as he clenched and unclenched his fists, as his eyes darted back and forth at Arthur. The scout huffed, shaking his head before turning his attention back to hi bow once again. Poor Lamorak was just a fool. Yet, Tristan couldn't help but wonder what Elaine thought of him. He prayed to the Gods that she was him as he did. Just a fool.

"You're joking," Arthur said, looking at the young knight before him. Lamorak looked right back into the Roman's face, his expression unwavering. "You're not joking."

Lamorak sighed, running his fingers through his brown straight hair, "Arthur, I only have the best of intentions when it comes to Elaine. I would rather die than to see her hurt. But…but you never have to worry about that, because I…I would never let anything happen. She is….is a beautiful woman….I mean..girl…um lady, and I admire her ……."

Arthur smiled, clapping his hand down on Lamorak's shoulder. "Calm down, Lamorak. I know you would never bring Elaine any pain. You're a good man. If you truly have feelings for Elaine, than you have my blessings to court her. "

All the men froze in their spots. Tristan nearly dropped his bow.

Lamorak beamed up at his commander.

"Oh, he'll court her alright," Lancelot said, throwing a rag across the stable arena in anger. Arthur was supposed to say what he had said to Lamorak, to him and him alone.

"You should have heard him before," Galahad spoke up, recovering from the intial shock. His voice took on a high falsetto tone, "Oh, Elaine is the most beautiful creature ever to walk the earth. I worship the very ground she walks on, I grovel at her feet. I'd trade anything, my life even, just to feel her in my arms just once, even if it were only for a moment…."

Gawain through a pebble at Galahad's chest, but he was already too late for a warning.

"I had know idea you felt so strongly, Galahad."

A crimson blush graces the cheeks of the young knight, when a smirking Elaine entered the arena. She laughed hard, quickly joined by the other knights.

"It wasn't……I."

Elaine waved him off, "I don't think I want to know."

Arthur chuckled and watched Elaine walk towards her steed's new stall. However, his smile quickly slipped away from his face when he say that she carried a couple of packs. He also soon noticed her riding clothes. 'Oh, no,' he thought as he strode swiftly into her stall. The knights each looked around at each other, confused by the lady's actions.

Elaine was loading the small brown sacks onto Luka's saddle when her brother entered her stall. She smiled at him quickly, before busying herself with brushing Luka's white mane.

"What's all this," Arthur said, pointing his finger around at Elaine's supplies.

"What's all what?"

"All this," he held up one of her bags, showing her exactly what he meant. Elaine frowned grabbing the bag out of Arthur's firm grasp, before turning back to her work.

"What does it look like."

Arthur's chest heaves up and down in annoyance, "It looks like you intend on going somewhere."

"Well then you'd be correct."

"Elaine, you cannot come with us."

Elaine froze, her back to Arthur. He couldn't be serious. He couldn't being ordering her around. She slowly turned to meet his gaze, knowing that very moment that he was utterly, completely earnest.

"What do you mean….."

"You are not coming with us."

"Dear God, Arthur! I cannot believe that you still don't trust my skill. I can take care of myself, I've don't in the past."

"You know that I trust you, and your skills, more than anything else."

"That's a lie. If you really thought that I could handle myself, you'd let me go."

"Please, Elaine. Just stay here. You'll be safe. Do it for my sake, just this once."

Elaine searched her brother's eyes in disbelief. Finally she sighed, yanking loose the bags from Lukas saddle.

"Thank you."

Elaine sighed, leaning her head against the wall of the stall door. She sat upon a low stool watching as Luka slept standing, as she knew horses tended to do. The men had all gone to the Tavern after they'd finished packing to the next day's journey. Arthur had left soon after, promising to come to her that night before she slept to speak with her some more. But she just couldn't bare him at the moment. So she was hiding out in the stables, amusing herself with bits of straw that she twisted in a braid. "You look bored."

She didn't have to look up to know that Lancelot was looming overhead, leaning his elbows along the frame of the closed half-door.

"As much as I could be."

Lancelot chuckled, still peering down onto the top of her head. "Well I have an easy way to remedy that."

"Spare me the details."

"What? I was only suggesting that you come out of hiding and join us in the Tavern. Get your beautiful mind out of the gutter, my lady."

Elaine smiled, despite herself.

"There, that's better. Now what's wrong."

"I…I can go. Why can't Arthur just except the fact that I'm grown woman, with a grown mind.."

"And a grown body.."

Elaine reached up a swatted at the laughing knight. "I'm trying to make a point."

"Trying, but failing."

"It's just that…he should see that I'm not some poor little helpless girl, Lancelot. You were right, I've killed before. Many times. I am capable."

Lancelot nodded, "He does see, Elaine. Arthur knows you're a woman know, and he can see that you are capable of taking care of yourself."

"Than why won't he let me go."

"Because, you are needed here. You have responsibilities here to the people, just as you have responsibilities to the men's welfare. This is really an unimportant mission, honestly. You'll be safer here, but more importantly, you won't be bored."

"Yeah."

The cool morning air nipped at Elaine's exposed shoulders as she ventured out into the still dark fortress. She walked briskly towards the stables, her white nightgown flowing behind her. Tightening the red cloak around her , Elaine entered the stables just as the men were leading their horses out. They smiled at her, none really able to speak because of the fatigue that consumed them so early in the morning. Elaine walked down the stalls, pausing when she came down to Tristan's. The scout was just turning to leave when he saw Elaine standing before him. For a moment, he thought he had been to tired, and that he somehow strayed back into one of his dreams.

"What are you doing here?"

Elaine smiled, "Good morning to you too."

Tristan frowned, "Go back to sleep."

"I didn't want you to leave without this," she said as she reached forward and placed a package in his hands. She didn't let go, folding his fingers around the package, and cradling his gloved hand in both of her small ones.

"What is it?"

"It's a couple of bandages and some aloe leaves. You'll need them."

"Thanks."

"Tristan?"

He turned back to her, looking down at his hand in hers, than looking back into her eyes, "What?"

Before he knew it, Elaine had thrown her arms around his neck, tucking her head into his shoulder. At first, Tristan held his arms out behind her, his body taut and straight. He wasn't used to this type of physical contact and it made him uncomfortable. But soon, the warmth and scent of Elaine's soft body filtered into his mind. He slowly wrapped his arms around her waist, relishing in the fact that their bodies melted together. Tristan dared to rub his palms up and down her back. She felt so perfect.

Elaine smiled against the fabric if Tristan's shirt, sniffing his musky scent into her nose as her lids slid closed. His hands rubbed her back, making Elaine's heart beat faster. Her fingers grazed his long messy hair, feeling its surprising softness. His strong chest felt so comfortable. She could stay like this forever.

Tristan slowly pulled back, but kept Elaine wrapped in his embrace. "What was that for?"

"I just…just be careful. I know that you will, I just…..I mean I know I shouldn't worry, because you're superior at what you do, I just couldn't help but think."

Tristan put a finger to her lips, "You talk to much sometimes."

Elaine smiled, "Just, come back safe okay?"

"I always do."


	24. Ambush

I wrote this chapter and the next three chapters this afternoon because it was my day off! I listened to Coldplay's X&Y in repeat like fifty times! I was completely relaxed so I took the time to just sit down and write. Before I knew it I was cranking out chapters left and right!

**Nilmelwen: **Let me just say that you are completely AWESOME! I laughed so hard when I read you're review. I just hope I don't get you into trouble!

I'll update the next couple of chapters soon, when I've edited them just a bit.

Enjoy and I love reviews!

Chapter 24

Ambush

The sun shone down upon the grassy fields finally after several days of cloudy, stormy weather which was a usual occurrence in Briton. Many villagers of the Wall were out and about, venturing down into the valley, and taking advantage of the warmth in the air. Vanora and Elaine were among them, walking and laughing with one another as they made their way up the hills, both women keeping an eye on the bastards who ran playing around.

"You really look good like that, you know," Vanora said.

Elaine looked back confused, "Like what?"

The older woman chuckled and pointed towards Number 10 that sat perched on Elaine's hip, cooing and playing with a strand of her curly brow hair. "You really are a natural. He usually cries his eyes out around anyone else. I remember that it took him a good couple of weeks to even get used to Bors."

Elaine's cheeks flushed a little, as she beamed down at the pudgy little face. He was just like a tiny little Bors, bald head and all. Her heart swelled as she imagined another babe at her side, looking up at her with eyes like hers, or a smile like hers.

"It would be nice one day, to have one, I think."

"Yes well," Vanora said, turning back towards her children in the field, "you say that now, but wait until you first endure the glorious pains of child birth, ten times."

Vanora suddenly groaned, rubbing her belly and grimacing. Elaine turned, placing her free hand on her friend's shoulder and trying to gauge her pain as best she could.

"Speaking of child birth pains," Elaine placed her spread palm out on Vanora's belly, smiling when she felt the area above the womb. "Feeling a little sick lately? You know, unable to keep your food down, sudden mood swings, that sort of thing?"

Vanora's eye snapped up to met Elaine's amused face, "Oh, no. You don't think?"

"Congratulations, you're going to be a mommy. Again."

Vanora froze for a moment, staring at the younger woman before squealing loudly and wrapping her arms around Elaine's neck and squeezing her tightly. "Oh, Elaine! Oh, Gods, this is wonderful!"

Elaine laughed, tilting her head to the sky as she hugged her friend close to her. "What's this make now? Eleven?"

Vanora pulled away swatting Elaine's arm, "Yes, and the more the merrier I always say."

The two ventured further into the valley together, connected by their latched arms. They giggled like little girls, watching the children play in the fields, as they spoke of the new child deep within Vanora's belly. Suddenly, a bloodcurdlingly howl erupted throughout the valley. A Roman guard fell dead from atop his tall steed. He lay on the ground, his dead eyes staring up into the sky, with a rustic looking arrow protruding from his chest.

"Woads!"

Vanora clutched Elaine, as a large group of savage Woads spilled out into the valley, their swords and weapons raised high in the air.

Elaine took Vanora by the shoulders, forcing the babe into her arms, "Van, go now. Take the children and run as fast as you can back to the Wall. Don't look back."

"But…"

"Please, just run!"

Vanora quickly nodded, calling her already surrounding bastards, as they swiftly took off in the direction of the fortress. Elaine watched them run, counting eleven fleeing heads frantically, before she turned back quickly to the scene before her. The Woads had already taken out half the Roman guards and a few unfortunate villagers who had simply gotten in their way. They charged forward in her direction, their vicious cries simply boiling the blood in her veins. These were the soulless creatures who had taken both of her parents away from her, and she swore they would not take her friends too.

Swinging into action, Elaine stalked forward, stooping down to take the sword of the fallen Roman guard. Before she moved to attack, Elaine knelt down, keeping her deadly eyes focused on the ambushing Woads, and took the blade to the sides of her brown skirts, slitting the fabric along her lingering legs so that she could move a little faster.

A woad warrior quickly advanced upon Elaine, but was taken completely by surprise when her sword ran right through his belly. He stood straight up, gasping as blood seeped out of his lips. Elaine yanked the sword out savagely, not caring as the man fell forward, as she moved ahead.

Another man charged forward, and Elaine stopped his blow, than whipped around, slicing his throat. Elaine fell to the ground, flipping around and cutting through a woad leg, before she brought the sword done hard upon his back. She was in her element. Blood splattered on her cheeks, her eyes dark and fierce, her chest heaving with excursion, the delicate lady had morphed into the ruthless fighter.

"ELAINE!"

The fighter swiped her sword through the air, completely chopping the head clean off a poor woad soul with one mighty blow, before she whipped around to a sight that stopped her dead in her tracks. A ugly woad held a long dull blade against a whimpering Vanora's throat. Elaine froze in her warrior stance as she panted up at the woad.

"Elaine...I-I'm sorry...I ca-came back for yo..."

"Where's the children?"

"They all...made it back. I ran back to help."

Elaine turned her deadly glare up at the hairy woad, "Let her go free."

The woad glared right back at the bloodied lady who stood before the body of his fallen brother, "You go with us, and she can live."

Elaine fought hard to control both her erratic breathing and her boiling anger. There was no way that she'd ever let any harm come to Vanora or the tiny babe that lay deep inside her belly. She had to act quickly, or loose her best friend forever. But Gaelan told her years ago, that to surrender to the enemy was to forsake the heritage and bravery of those who had fallen gallantly before her. Yet, she knew what she had to do.

"You release her, I watch her enter safely into the gates, than you may do what you will."

The woad shook his head in agreement.

"Swear to me," Elaine said through her teeth, pointing the bloodied sword at the woad.

"You go with us now, and you have my word that she will live."

The woad released his tight grip on Vanora, and stood still as the fiery red head whipped around, slapping his bearded face hard, before she ran quickly to Elaine.

"Elaine, don't do this."

"Van, go now and don't look back."

Vanora hugged Elaine tight to her, "What's going to happen?"

"Do not fret, the men will come for me. Arthur and the knights wouldn't let any harm come to me, you know that."

Vanora pulled away, smiling despite the tears that slipped down her cheeks, "I will tell them."

Than she quickly jogged away back towards the Wall. Elaine watched her and the woads carefully, ready for even the slightest bit of betrayal to their vow. Before she made it to where the Roman guard were assembling just a little too late, Vanora turned around quickly looking back at her friend. Elaine smiled and waved assuringly back at Vanora, who smiled back before she ran back into the gates and into the tiny arms of all her bastards. As soon as she was out of sight, the forced smile slipped off Elaine's face. She knew in her heart that the men were too far away to make it to her in time.

Slowly, Elaine turned back to the woads who had assembled behind her, watching her as she waited for her friend to get to safety. She glared at each, letting the sword slip out of her hands and to the ground with a loud thump.

"Shall we gentlemen?"

Nine riders came up over the horizon, slowing as they made it upon the rode leading to the great gates of Hadrian's Wall. Arthur lead the pack of knights as their horses galloped swiftly towards the entrance of the fortress.

"Well, that was an entire waist of our time," Gawain said, stretching his arms up in the air with fatigue.

Bors chuckled, "I'm just happy to get back to Van."

Arthur smiled, for all the time he'd been working away to help rebuild the villages, he'd thought of Elaine. He naturally felt bad about the way he'd handled telling her she couldn't come with them, and he wanted to get back as quickly as possible to apologize.

Arthur wasn't the only man among them with his mind on Elaine, for three of the others had been swarmed with thoughts of her their entire time away.

As the weary men entered the gates, they all froze, rearing up their horses at the sight that met them inside. Villagers and Romans alike were running about frantically, shouts from guards rang out, as everyone scrambled aimlessly in fear.

"What in the hell is going on here?" Kay said, holding the reins of his horse solidly in his large hands.

Arthur quickly dismounted followed by Lancelot and Bors. They all ran towards the living quarters.

"What has happened?" Arthur grabbed the arm of a Roman soldier fiercely.

"My lord, I..."

"VAN!"

Bors looked about desperately for his lover and the mother of his ten bastard children. He sighed in relief when the three men saw her running towards them, the bastards flowing right behind her like ducklings following the mother duck.

"Bors," Vanora said, throwing her arms around the large man, who scooped her up, lifting her off the ground just slightly by his embrace. The other men, still atop their horses, rode up towards the newly assembled group. Tristan's eyes searched the area, hoping to spot Elaine running about in the crowds.

"Oh, Gods! Arthur!" Vanora sobbed, pulling quickly out of Bors's grasp and taking the Roman's armored arm in her hands, "Oh, Arthur, the woads! The Woads!"

"Shh, love. You have to stay calm," Bors spoke to Vanora soothingly, stroking her fire red hair.

"NO! The Woads, Arthur. They ambushed us outside the fortress walls."

Arthur frowned,"It's alright now, Vanora. Where is my sister?" Arthur's eyes searched for Elaine, hoping he could get a straight answer from her, rather than a broken one from the hysterical woman before him.

"Oh, Arthur, she was with us."

The Roman, the first knight, the youngest knight, and the scout all shot their gazes simultaneously at Vanora when she spoke the last words. No, it couldn't be.

"What do you mean she was with you? Where is Elaine?" Lancelot said, emotion dripping in his voice, as he took Vanora firmly by the shoulders.

"Oh," Vanora sobbed, frantically trying to get the words to come out of her own mouth, "Oh, it was terrible. They came out of the forests, like a swarm of angry bees. And Elaine, oh she was so brave. She took me by the arm and told me to run back with the children as fast as we could, which we did."

"She stayed?"

"And fought them. It was unbelievable. She was like some wild cat or something out of a dream. And so brave. She killed at least fifteen of them in a matter of minutes before I ran back to her."

"You went back?" Bors yelled, grabbing his lover by the arm,"What the hell where you thinking?"

"I didn't want her to get killed!"

Arthur visually flinched at Vanora's words, and Tristan looked about ready to get down off his steed and shake the answers from the woman.

"One of the woads caught me as I ran up towards her, and held a knife to my throat..."

"WHAT!"

"Bors, let her finish!" Lancelot screamed.

"Elaine quickly killed another one of those vile beasts before she turned and saved me. Oh, gods, Arthur I'm so sorry."

"She's...dea..dead then."

"Oh no, no. But in order for them to release me, they told her she had to sacrifice herself to them first. She agreed to save me. She did save me. Oh, you have to go to her!"

Tristan' fears were absolutely right, for he knew that the Woads had some sort of special interest in Elaine. Now they had finally achieved what they had attempted to do many times before.

"She let herself be taken by the Woads?"

"Yes, Arthur. You don't think they will...harm her will they."

When Arthur's face went stoic and he didn't produce a single answer for her, Vanora sobbed uncontrollably, burying her head in Bors's chest.

Bor's looked over Vanora's head and spoke,"She sacrificed herself for my Van. Arthur, we have to save her."

Arthur nodded, "Men, we..."

"We know Arthur, we're ready now," Galahad said from atop his hose with a stern face. Arthur looked around at the others, his pride in them overflowing when they al greeted his gaze with a nod of agreement.

"We ride now. Tristan?"

Arthur was just in time to see Tristan's fleeing form as he raced atop his horse back towards the open gates of the Wall. His heartbeat seemed to match the hoof beats of his gray steed, as he swiftly made his way towards the valley. Tristan had no idea what possessed him in that very moment, but he felt invincible and bloodthirsty all at the same time. All he did know was if they had laid one single finger on her, he'd wipe out their entire race. At the top of the hill, Tristan reared up, stopping. He whistled loudly into the air, as his mystical hawk swooped down out of nowhere, landing gracefully on his outstretched arm.

Tristan stroked the bird's silky feathers, whispering, "Find her."

Heaving the bird up, it took off with a loud screech, soaring high into the sky and in the direction of the shadowy Woad forests. Tristan watched him as he disappeared into the woods to track Elaine. As he stood atop the hill, the soft winds blowing his messy braids in his eyes, Tristan took no notice that be unconsciously stroked his finger over the delicate material of a green ribbon tied to his left wrist.


	25. Woad Territory

Thanks again for all the reviews, you are all lovely!

Just got to edit the next couple of chapters, but they'll be up very soon.

Oh, and this will eventually get into the movie, but I've decided to do so in a totally different fashion that will only involve really the main plot points of the movie. I mean, I take that all of you reading have seen the movie so it would be kind of boring to read what you watched. STAY TUNED! I won't give anything away, but I think you'll enjoy my approach. (Or I pray that you do)

Tell me what you think of this chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter 25

Woad Territory

As she was lead through the deep forests by the band of Woads, Elaine mentally marked each stone, each tree, each bit of underbrush as she passed by. They weren't going to take her without a fight, and if she did happen to escape their grasp she'd know just where to go to get back towards the valley outside Hadrian's Wall. For now, she would allow the blue demons to lead her deeper and deeper into the woods, like a dog on a leash. Elaine chuckled bitterly to herself as she pictured how silly she must have looked that exact moment. Her hands had been tightly bound together in front of her, mainly because she'd scratched one of the men's faces hard, and that man was more than happy than be the one to lead her along with a rope tied to her neck. From time to time, he glanced back to her, smiling gravely through the drips of blood that had come from her scratch marks. Elaine secretly promised herself to go out of her way to kill that one, even if it meant doubling back in her escape just to do so.

A tug on her neck brought her back to the present, as the leader of the Woads stopped. He had been the one that had held the knife to Vanora, and seemed to be the only one among the woads to speak her language. He came up to her as she glared coldly to him, and reached around to touch her neck. She flinched, but he smiled.

"I am only trying to make you more comfortable, my lady."

"Don't bother."

The woad chuckled, looking her up and down,"As you wish, my lady."

"I am nothing of yours you beast."

He smiled the same sly smile once again, and Elaine was actually surprised to see that he wasn't an unattractive man in the least bit. 'Too bad God wasted his work on a man whose going to die soon,' she thought to herself.

"Well, not yet."

Elaine froze, watching him walk forward again. He reached forward in the brush and cleared a path with a swipe of his hand.

"We are here."

Elaine looked about here as she was lead through what appeared to be a Woad village. She gawked at the fur covered tents and the fire pits, and the men and women, and more importantly the children that had stopped what they were doing to watch her arrival. Elaine had never seen the woads as a people, a civilization, only as savage beasts who preyed on the helpless. But there she was, being dragged through their village.

The group of men stopped abruptly, causing Elaine to nearly bump into the scratched one. She looked up to see that they stood at the base of a great tree, where an old man stood proudly before them. He had a long brown beard that had streaks of gray forming, a strong but aging form, and he was covered in a fur cloak, holding a long staff at his side. Each of the men bent down on one knee, bowing to honor the elder before them. Scratchy, as Elaine had mentally dubbed him, began to force her to her knees out of respect but she kicked him in the instep of his foot, making him howl in pain.

Elaine looked up defiantly to the old man, "I bow to no one, other than God!"

When Scratchy charged towards her, the old man held up his staff. "Stop!"

The charging woad immediately paused, bowing low once again.

"Peace between us this night, Lady of the Lake. We mean you no harm."

"Tell that to the men who held a knife up to my friend and I."

"You should not hold anger in your heart for those whom your own mother called her people. Her love and beauty flows through you, I see it now. She was close to my heart."

Elaine glared up at the man, "You have no right to speak of her. Who are you?"

"I am called Merlin among my people. Among your people."

For a moment, Elaine thought her heart had stopped completely. She had nightmares ever since the day she left the shores of Briton nearly fifteen years ago, of a blue demon named Merlin, who roared out of the forests one night and swallowed her mother in flames. And ever since then, when she awoke sweating, tears falling down her face, she promised to avenge her mother and honor her father by slaying the one called Merlin, someday. Now, he stood before her, practically offering her an olive branch, and telling her that she belonged to his people.

"You took my mother away from me. You killed one of your own."

"And you have killed your own too. I did not wish her dead."

"Killed my own? Ha!"

Merlin raised his head, his eyes narrowing as a sorrowful expression overtook his countenance, "So you turn your back on the blood that follows through both our veins, like your brother. Have you given yourself completely to Rome, to those who murder and rape our land out from under us?"

Elaine's chest heaved up and down in anger, "I am no Woad, nor am I a Roman. Not by choice. No, I swore my allegiance a long time to the people of Shalott. I am a daugther of Gaelan. I am a Celt! ASCA AMIN YESTE' N'NDENGINA!"

The crowds erupted into foreign tongues, as the Woads looked at the woman before them. Many were astonished because they had never seen a Celt before.

"Silence!" Merlin spoke at last, raising his hand and staff high into the air. When the crowds had been quieted, he looked back down at Elaine with soft eyes. "Lady of the Lake, you have belonged to the Britons long before you gave yourself to the Celts."

"Why do you keep calling me that? Lady of the Lake."

Merlin smiled for the first time since they had met, "You were named Lady of the Lake long ago, when you were just a babe. You see, your mother had always been close to my heart, so I always kept my eye on her. One night at dusk, I came upon her, your father and your brother, deep in the woods at one of our sacred streams. They gave you to a holy man of the Romans, who dipped you completely under the cool running waters. Naturally, I feared he meant to harm you, so I made ready my bow to strike him down. But you came up again, and you smiled. You didn't cry, you simply smiled. Later on, when you're mother was dressing you and your father was attending to the horses, I came to her. Since then you have been the Lady of the Lake to our people."

Elaine stared dumfounded up at the man, searching her mind to discover just what he was trying to tell her. Suddenly, it struck her.

"My baptism. You confused my baptism."

Merlin's brow furrowed, "I do not know of what you speak."

Elaine shook her head, "Never mind. Just tell me why you have brought me here?"

The old man straightened up, "That night, when I went to your mother, a pact was made between us. You see, your mother was never meant to dwell with your father forever. She would have eventually had to come back to her people. But I allowed her to stay, if she promised to deliver you to us upon the night of your sixteenth year."

Elaine stood in utter disbelief. Her mother had promised to trade her life away so that she did not have to leave her father? How could she?

"You are promised to Blaise," with that, Merlin motioned and the leader of the band of Woads that brought her there stood, "Tomorrow you two will become one."

"What? No, no you can't make me."

"Tomorrow you will become a Briton once again."

Elaine shook her head, "No, no." Tears welled in her eyes. Her head swam with so many thoughts and emotions. Just as her world went black, Elaine called out as she thought she saw a hawk perched high in a tree above her.

"TRISTAN!"

Elaine's eyes shot open as she sprang up from the warm furs that she had been so comfortably wrapped in. She winced as a pain shot up through her wrists, which she discovered her bonds had been double-tied.

"Shh, calm yourself. You are safe."

Elaine whipped around to see a young woman reach out to gently push her back down on the furs again. She moved quickly out of her grasp, glaring at the woman, who must have been a few years younger than her. She had pale white skin and brown eyes, and long crimped black hair that reached down to her waist.

"I will not hurt you, I've only come to wash you."

The lady gave the woman a look that meant to say that if she even dared to touch her, she'd kill her in a heartbeat. Elaine glanced back down at her bound hands. Perhaps she could kick her.

The woman smiled warmly, trying desperately to gain Elaine's trust.

"I'm Guinevere."

"I don't give a shit who you are! Let me go."

Guinevere chuckled, pushing a loose strand of Elaine's hair away from her face, "Do you speak to your precious knights with that mouth?"

Elaine glared at her, "Oh, and I suppose that I'm meant to take a lesson on manners from a woman who runs around half-naked in the woods, covered head to foot in blue dirt!"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but don't Celts live in the woods and run around half-naked."

Elaine shook her head,"Yes, but in lodges, the size of Roman palaces. And we only run around half-naked when we battle."

Guinevere erupted in laughter, but Elaine just remained stone cold. "They will come for me you know."

Guinevere froze. After a few minutes, Guinevere reached again to wash Elaine, and this time she allowed it.

After she was through, Guinevere began to run a wooden comb gently through Elaine's soft curls.

"Blaise is a good match. You will live a long happy life at his side."

Before Guinevere could react, Elaine whipped around grabbing her hand painfully in between hers. "I'd rather die."

Guinevere looked down at Elaine's previously bound hands in confusion,"How did you?"

Elaine smirked, "Perhaps you really aren't so well informed about Celts."

The British woman narrowed her eyes, pulling her hands out of Elaine's grasp, and tying them back together tightly. "You should be happy. Your match with Blaise will bring peace to these lands again."

Elaine chuckled sardonically, "And how exactly will it do that, pray tell?"

"A noble marriage between a Britain and a Roman will stop Arthur and Rome from invading our lands."

"Is Merlin that naive? Arthur would become so enraged when he heard that I had been forced into an unholy union, that he'd stop at nothing to hunt down each and every one of you. And Rome? You can't honestly think that Rome is going to quit this land forever because of me?"

Guinevere simply ignored all of Elaine's valid arguments, "You are doing it for the good of the people."

"NOT MY PEOPLE!"

The two sat in silence, neither one daring to say a single word to the other. Then Guinevere stood, walking slowly towards the tent entrance. Elaine watched as the young woman floated away, and stopped to look back at her with remorseful eyes. Elaine paused, unnerved by Guinevere's contradicting expression. She said one thing, but her eyes said another.

"I will return tomorrow, for the wedding is to be held at dawn," she said, turning outside, "Sleep well, Elaine."

Elaine sat in silence, staring down at her painfully bound hands. Only the soft sounds of the forest outside and the occasional footsteps of a passerby meet her ears. Looking around, despair filled her quickly; she feared that she would remain here in the woods among her sworn enemy for the rest of her life. She would be bound to a man she hardly knew forever. She would have to lay with him, bare him sons. Elaine soon noticed that tremors were shaking her whole body, and realized that tears were flowing freely down her face. A great sob emerged from the bottom of her throat, and Elaine threw herself down onto the furs, burrowing deep into it's warmth. She prayed to her life, prayed for Arthur, prayed for Vanora and the children, prayed for the men, for Lancelot, and for Tristan.

"SQUAWK!"

Elaine shot up, a great wave of relief washing over her as a familiar sight meet her eyes. Tristan's great hawk hopped into the tents entrance and made its way quickly over to the lady it had been trained to trust. It thrust it's head under her overturned palm, squeaking as she gently stroked it's feathers.

"You must be quiet little one."

The bird squawked, releasing it's grasp on something it held tightly in its claws. Elaine gasped as she saw five deep red rose petals drift slowly down into her lap. Tristan! He was coming for her. The men were coming for her. Elaine quickly reached above her neck, unclasping her mother's pendent, and wrapping it in the claws of the awaiting hawk.

"Tell them where I am."

The hawk let out one final squawk before hopping towards the entrance and taking flight. Tears of hope replaced the ones of despair only moments before, as Elaine caressed the silken petals against her palms. He was telling her he would stop at nothing to get to her, that he wouldn't let her be forsaken to a life among the Woads. Elaine lay back down upon the furs, bringing the petals up to her lips, imagining that they were his own lips, pressing down gently on hers. How she desired that he were with him at that very moment, so that she could tell him all the things she had been feeling for him for so long.


	26. Lamentation

Here let me clear up a few things that** Chelsss **brought to my attention (thanks **Chelsss for your review!) **

Probably some of you have gotten confused about the ages of the characters of my story as well as the time frame their in, and I apolgize cause I really wasn't clear. sorry guys:) Elaine was taken by the celts when she was 6 and Arthur was like 11 and Tristan was like 13. So here's everyone's ages that I tweaked a little cause my story takes place the summer and fall before the movie script starts.

Elaine- 21 Tristan-28 or so, Arthur- 26, Lancelot- 26, Gawain-25, Galahad-23, Lamorak-22, Dagonet-32,Bors-38, Kay-29.

Okay, I know that in the movie they are all a bit older, but I decided to take some writing liberty and make them all a bit younger, Sorry if it upsets anyone, but I just picture them this way. But this is totally your own interpretation of my story, so you can imagine them at any age really. Thanks.

Here's the newest Chapter! BUT...I must warn you. Get your tissues ready. As well as your typing fingers, so you can tell me what you think.

Chapter 26

Lamentation

A thick fog drifted through the lush green forests of Briton. An assembly of woads had come together before the great tree in the center of their village, every man, woman and child coming out from their tents. Before them stood Merlin, dressed in a golden fur and holding his usual staff proudly as he awaited the arrival of the Lady.

Elaine emerged from the tent, followed closely by Guinevere. The young woad had dressed Elaine in a thick, scratchy blue gown, that had a sun stitched around the very bottom with rough yellow and orange thread. It was incredibly uncomfortable material that made her extremely hot.

"This gown...I swear I.."

"Do you like it?" Guinevere smiled, pushing Elaine's long curls around her shoulders,"I made it myself for you."

Elaine felt bad. "It's beautiful."

Guinevere smiled, turning to see Blaise stalking up to them. The reality of her situation set in as Elaine watched the horrid man approach. Her hands trembled with anger, as Blaise took her elbow roughly and began to lead her to the makeshift altar by Merlin.

"Come, my lady. It's time to make you my wife."

Elaine gulped, as her eyes frantically searched the surrounding forests. 'Oh, God. Guide them to me safely.'

They soon came before the waiting Merlin, who smiled a greeting to Elaine. She only glared up right back at him, hatred filling her eyes for the man she held responsible for the pain she had to endure for fifteen long years.

"We are blessed with this admirable morning. Today our people will become one, as you two become one, in body, mind and soul."

"Oh, no."

Elaine's face mirrored the deep fear she was feeling all over inside her body. Her hands tremble as she desperately searched the trees. Perhaps they would not get there to her in time. Perhaps they couldn't come to her at all. Merlin began performing the ceremony, speaking in a rich foreign tongue as he blessed a chalice of what appeared to be wine. When he turned back to address them once more, tears slipped down Elaine's cheeks. She choked visibly on a sob, bringing her hand up to her mouth, and hating herself for showing such weakness before her enemies.

A single word dripped in a whisper from her lips as Merlin turned towards her.

"Tristan."

Merlin held the chalice up overhead the two destined to become man and wife, "The blood of this land courses through both of your veins. Drink and become one. Unite thy selves as you unite thy country."

Merlin than passed the chalice down to a hairy old Woad, who held it up before him and bowed to Merlin in great respect. The Woad than turned and made his way towards Elaine so that she might drink from the cup, thus sealing her fate forever. Elaine cried out in pain. They were too late.

Suddenly, without warning, a swift arrow flew out of nowhere, striking the arms of the man holding the chalice, going through the first limb than connecting with the other. The woad screamed in agony at the pain and the sight of his forearms held together by an arrow, the chalice spilling over, and the wine mixing with his blood on the green grass. Elaine looked up just in time to see Arthur and the knights burst through the forest, their various weapons drawn and ready. Many woads cried out, scattering back into the safety of their tents, while those able grabbed whatever weapon was available to them.

Bors screamed as he plunged his razor sharp axe across the chest of the first Woad that got into his way, "RUS!"

Lancelot galloped over to Elaine, frightening away Blaise as his black steed reared up at him. Elaine stood as Lancelot reached down and pulled her atop the horse in front of him, than rode back quickly towards the woods again.

Lancelot glanced down and noticed Elaine's hands, bringing out his dagger as he said,"They actually had to bind you in order to get you to go through the wedding? That won't happen at our blessed event will it my little butterfly, will it?"

Elaine rubbed her wrists after Lancelot cut her hands free, smirking up at the knight as she did. "Of course not my little idiot."

Lancelot laughed, dropping Elaine off at a safe distance, before racing back to the ensuing battle. Before she could jump out to help, Lancelot turned in his saddle, "DON'T MOVE FROM THAT SPOT!"

Tristan dismounted his steed quickly after having shot the first arrow through the Woads arms. A charging woad didn't know what hit him when a throwing knife landed right between his eyes. Tristan swaggered as he advanced the scene, pulling his long curved sword from his back slowly. Woads fell in every direction about his feet, as he swept his saber through the air with such great balance and skill. Arthur yelled ferociously, flipping Excalibur around to cut through the back of one woad, than swung around to slice the middle of another. Bors and Dagonet worked on a group of large Woads together, tackling them and running them through, making a sort of bizarre game out of the whole affair. Lancelot, Kay, and Gawain were still mounted upon their horses, swiping their different weapons around at their sides, killing and maiming several Woads as they went along. Galahad shot arrow after arrow from the ground, whipping around expertly at every attempted blow against him.

Elaine watched the whole battle play out before from her place in the underbrush. It was almost too unbearable to watch the men she had come to love fight for her, while she just hid. She could fight!

Just as she exited the brush, grabbing a nearby bow and searching for a single arrow, Elaine caught a glimpse of a figure advancing quickly towards her out of the very corner of her eye. She turned around swiftly to see Blaise running towards her. Elaine panicked searching desperately for an arrow anywhere, before Blaise could reach her. Yet, just it appeared too late, Lamorak jumped out from behind her, blocking Blaise's blow and kicking him in the gut. The Woad fell back, but quickly recovered. The two parried, as Elaine watched from the ground where she had collapsed in her furious hunt for an extra arrow to strike Blaise down. Lamorak was, of course, the better of the two, and it almost appeared that he was taunting the Woad with each block blow and returned hit. Suddenly, Lamorak swung his fist, connecting with Blaise's jaw. Blood flew through the air, spurting forth from the Woad's mouth, as he went down quickly, laying at the ground in defeat. Lamorak smirked, than turned around and swiftly jogged over to the fallen Elaine.

He bent forward, a beautiful smile spreading across his blood splattered face, and his eyes shining brightly. Elaine smiled back at her savior as he kindly extended his open hand to her.

"My lady," he said with a chuckle.

Just as Elaine reached her hand to meet his, the pointed tip of an arrow suddenly plunged through Lamorak's chest, appearing out of his armor at Elaine. Lamorak froze, and grunted with the painful force that was sent through him. A look of confusion flashed over his face as he looked down at the arrow point that protruded out of his chest. Elaine looked up in horror. Lamorak looked back at her, searching her eyes for an answer, as a drop of blood slipped down his bottom lip. Than, Lamorak slumped forward falling directly into Elaine's waiting arms.

"NO!" Elaine screamed out, her voice cracking in pain and grief. Blaise stood smiling at her, an empty bow at his side before he hurried of into the woods.

Lamorak groaned, fear running across his young features. He looked up into Elaine's sorrowful eyes pleadingly, grasping at the huge sleeve of her gown.

"E..Elaine?"

Tears fell freely down her cheeks, "Shh..Lamorak...you'll be alright...I promise.."

"E..E.E...la..I-I don't want to die." Lamorak cried, his youthful fears coming alive.

Elaine sobbed, "Shh," she said in a shaky voice as she cradled him in her hands. She looked up at the other men who were quickly dwindling the numbers down of the fleeing Woads.

"HELP ME!" Elaine screamed, a sob running through her voice.

Each man whipped around at her blood chilling yell. Gawain's eyes grew wide at the sight of his fallen cousin, the one he had promised to protect, bleeding in Elaine's arms. He was the first to be at her side, followed closely by a frantic Arthur.

Gawain fell to his knees, taking Lamorak's head in his hands. "Stay with me!"

Elaine applied pressure to the ghastly wound, crying out helplessly as an artery burst making more blood seep out. Lamorak's lips turned white as did his face as his breathing slowed. The others looked down sorrowfully at there brother, each slightly shaking in fear.

Elaine cried, tears blurring her vision. She moved about frantically, attempting to do two things at once. She didn't know that Arthur was at her side until she heard his voice.

"Tell me what to do."

Elaine looked at him, "Hold your hand there hard. Apply as much pressure as you can, but do so gingerly."

Elaine moved to remove the arrow. As she pulled, she heard a slow, terrifying sucking sound, causing her to stop. It was too dangerous. His organs were impaled, hanging on to the shaft of the wooden arrow. It would do more damage to yank the arrow out there. She screamed out in anger, moving around to assess the wound again.

Lamorak stared calmly up at Arthur and Elaine, his eyes growing evermore dim with each passing minute. Arthur still applied pressure, but looked down when his knight placed his cold hand atop both of his.

"I saved her for you, Arthur. I hav...haven't failed you."

"Shh, Lamorak. Don't speak."

"Have I...I.served you..well Arthur?..Have I made you...proud?"

Arthur froze, tears welling in his eyes. "Yes, Lamorak. You are a great man."

Lamorak smiled, than looked down at Elaine. "Elaine?"

She stopped for a second upon hearing Lamorak say her name.

Lamorak smiled down at her, before his eyes turned back up to Arthur. "She is so beautiful. Isn't she?"

Arthur smiled gravely, shaking as he said, "Yes, she is."

Elaine looked back in confusion. Lamorak looked up at Gawain's tear streaked face.

"I beat you, finally cousin. I go home before you."

Lamorak's breathing stilled as his lifeless eyes stared straight into the sky above him. Gawain was overcome with sobs, as he held his cousins face to his. Elaine shook her head.

"No, no, no. Lamorak, please."

Arthur wrapped his arms around her shaking form, "Elaine, there is nothing you can do now."

The group stared sorrowfully down at their fallen brother. The youngest had been stripped of his life so cruelly and so unfairly, much too soon. Yet, their mourning was cut sort by the wail of another onslaught of charging woads. The men turned quickly and charged forward in anger.

Arthur stood Elaine up, and held her in his arms, "TRISTAN! GET HER OUT OF HERE!"

The scout rode up quickly, scooping Elaine up out of Arthur's embrace with one strong arm, crushing her against the safety of his chest. She whimpered in protest, but held on to him with all her might, as the rode hard into the wilderness.

They soon came to the valley, breaking free from the constraints of the deadly forest. Tristan slowed his steed, and grabbed forElaine, but she was already on the ground before he could catch her. He quickly dismounted and raced after her fleeing form, reaching her much quicker than she had expected. He grabbed her by the hands, turning her to face him.

"Elaine! Elaine!"

"I have to go back, I have to go back."

"ELAINE!"

The lady froze, stunned when she heard Tristan actually raise his voice. He stare down at her, than slipped his arms around her, his hand burying itself in her silky tresses. She sobbed, and he brought her head to his chest, placing his chin on top. He rocked her slowly, as her tears burned his skin. He was so relieved to see her alive.

"Tristan, it is all my fault. Lamorak died for me."

Tristan stroked her hair, savoring the feeling of it in between his fingers. He wasn't usually so expressive with his actions, nor compassionate. But she was in pain, and he'd do anything to ease it.

"Stop. You had nothing to do with it. Lamorak was murdered, but he will be avenged I swear."

The two stood there in the valley, tightly wrapped in each other arms as a eastern wind blew about them.

There you go. I'm sorry, but it's true. Just don't hate me, please.


	27. Fallen Knight

Thanks everyone for your reviews. I know! Last chapter was a downer, to read and, believe me, to write. But I had to build up Lamorak's character, which ultimately makes you like him in the process, before he went. I ended up loving him myself, but it was just how the story was going.

Enjoy this chapter, though and keep on telling me what you think. Believe me, it helps.

Chapter 27

Fallen Knight

The clouds drifted swiftly across the gray morning sky, shielding the warmth and light that the sun had to offer. The air was cold, instantly chilling all the way done to the bone, as the people surrounded up high on Badon Hill. The Sarmatian Knights and their commander, Arthur, encircled a newly prepared burial mound, each man bowing their heads low to the ground in grief. Their friend, their comrade, their brother was gone.

Arthur stood at the head of the freshly earthen mound, higher up on the hill than all the others. His exhausted eyes stared down hard at the short sword that had been placed in the earth above the grave, marking Lamorak's place among his ancestors forever. The perished knight's bronze colored armor was placed up against his weapon of choice, and his metal helmet sat on the top of the hilt. It almost took on the shape of a body. Arthur shook his head, trying to rid himself of the foolish wishes that plagued his heavy heart; wishes that the events of the past days had not occurred, wishes for this all to be just a dream, and wishes that somehow, Lamorak would walk up the hill at any moment. He had failed another one of his faithful men.

Gawain sniffed, desperately trying to keep the tears that threatened to spill down his red, swollen lids at bay. He had to be brave. That's what his uncle had told him. To be brave. Gawain gritted his teeth at the memory of his departing day from Sarmatia. His uncle had told him to be brave and strong, directly after telling him to always protect and watch over his little cousin. He had sworn that he would. And now he had failed. Lamorak lay dead in the cold ground, buried far from his homeland, and from his people. Gawain felt Galahad's arm on his shoulder, but couldn't look up to meet his best friend's sorrowful gaze. It was all just too much to bare.

Elaine stood solemnly in between Dagonet and Lancelot. She wore a deep black velvet gown, with ornate red and gold collars and gold buttons on the bodice, and a blood red sash tied around her middle. It had been a gown she had made herself in Shalott, and saw such a regal gown was appropriate for the burial of a great man. He deserved to have a proper burial, with proper mourners. And she was one. A long black silk veil completely covered her face and most of her hair. And as she stared down at the brown dirt that had been placed carefully over Lamorak's fallen body, the breeze gently blew the veil, giving her an almost mystical look. She gulped, her throat burning as a sob remained trapped in her chest. She had failed to save him as he had saved her.

Tristan was the only one among the many there, whose eyes were not fixed upon the fresh mound of dirt. Of course, he grieved for his brother, because Lamorak truly was like a brother as were all the rest. It was just that Tristan mourned differently than most, in his own way. He wasn't one for all the ceremony, and the tears and wails of agony. Simplicity, was in his mind, the honorable way to bury the brave. Tristan hated having so many villagers there. It would have been better if it were just the knights, the men who knew him as the man he was. And Elaine, for she was closer to them than any one else.

So, the scout's eyes were not staring down on the untrodden mound, but were fixed heatedly straight across from where he stood by Gawain, Galahad, and Bors. He had watched her the entire time. Although the veil she wore, hid most of her features, Tristan's trained eyes could see each teardrop that slid down her soft cheek. They shone like precious diamonds underneath the darkness of the veil. His heart ached for her. She was in pain. Since the two days past the horrible day, she hadn't spoken at all, nor ate a thing. Arthur had begged her to eat and seek comfort in his arms, but she simply sat alone in her chamber. Tristan wouldn't let her kill herself over the loss of Lamorak, so he had gone into her room on the second night. She was sitting by her bed, stitching away at the veil she would wear the next day. Upon seeing Tristan standing before her, for she did not hear him until he was indeed in front of her, she gasped but did not scream nor speak at all. Tristan strode forward, plopping down on the bed, and sliced fiercely into an apple. She had refused him at first, but he slowly got her to munch on the apple. But she made him promise that he would eat with her too, which he did. They sat for an hour in silence, sharing many apples. When she fell to sleep, he had wrapped a warm blanket around her body. It surprised him, how comfortable she was with him. Thoughts of the day she'd seen him in the stables with the blood of the Woads on his hands, had made him try to stay as far away from her as he could, but it seemed like it was just impossible to do so. Something always seemed to bring him close to her. Tristan hadn't left her room immediately after she had fallen into a heavy sleep, but sat for a while watching her from the shadows. He knew he shouldn't be there, that he shouldn't have even gone to her in the first place. But as the moonlight cast down upon her creamy skin, his heart ached. He knew that there was no other place he'd rather be. After a short while, Arthur had come into the room, and Tristan had slipped out into the hall unnoticed. But in the hall, he felt a pair of eyes staring at him from the darkness. He ignored them, walking straight into his room, and bolting the door tightly behind him.

Arthur's stern voice brought the scout out of his thoughts.

"Let us never forget Lamorak, the brave. Keep him forever in our hearts and our minds."

The mourners bowed their heads, each saying a pray to there own Gods. A silence filled the space again, as the flames from the incense burner on top of the mound whipped violently against the cold morning breeze. The thick, rich aromas of frankincense and myrrh permeated out from the clay burner, stinging each nose with its sweet scent. Before long, the ceremony was complete, and slowly the villagers who had come out to show respect to the brave young knight, began to drift away, back towards the wall. Soon, only the Sarmatian knights, Arthur and Elaine stood by the burial mound, none of them moving at all from their initial spot, as they continued to stare at Lamorak's grave.

Gawain was the first to break the cold sullenness. He knelt forward upon on knee, sighing and placing his dirty palm flat on the brown earth, where Lamorak's head would be deep down below.

"Go home, cousin," he said just above a whisper, "I'll follow you soon."

Elaine's throat felt terribly sore as she watched the saddening scene before her. Her heart went out to Gawain. He was her close friend now, as were all the men. As was Lamorak. His pain was hers.

Suddenly, without any warning at all, a great wind blew hard to the East. Towards Sarmatia. The men trembled against it, feeling as though they had all been individually touched by a familiar force. Elaine gasped as the breeze swept the black veil completely off her head, revealing her face, as it drifted along the strong east wind. And as it was carried all the way out of sight, Elaine's tears were dried from her face by the wind.

As they all watched the veil float away, each man and Elaine knew inside their hearts what had just happened. Lamorak was set free.

Okay this one was relatively short, but it was a little way to give us allsome closure.


	28. Time Heals All Wounds

Chapter 28

Time Heals All Wounds

The stars shined brightly against the pitch black of night. Not a cloud in the sky, the almost full moon seemed gigantic as it gleamed down in soft rays upon Hadrian's Wall. It wasn't a particularly busy night, most of the villagers and farmers were too tired after working in the fields all day, preparing for the harvest that would soon be upon them. The streets were almost completely bare, and the usual rowdiness that filtered out from the Tavern was all but gone. Yet, for all the lacking merriment and cheer, the now seven Sarmatian Knights of the Wall sat around their usual wooden table. 

Besides some broken small talk, the knights sat in relative silence. Vanora stared at the men from her spot behind the bar. She sighed, shaking her head in a mixture of sadness and pity. The men had lost many of their brothers in arms over their charge, witnessing their death, honoring them at their burial, and mourning their loss for days, even weeks afterwards. Vanora had loved the young Lamorak as a close friend and brother, just as the men did, and she too grieved his death. But it pained her even more to see the men like they were. They deserved to have happiness together.

Lifting her freshly refilled tray from the bar, Vanora made her way slowly over to the knight's table. Bors looked up at her arrival and gave his lover a half-smile, but ultimately his sad eyes slowly fluttered back down to stare at the rough grains of the wood in the table. Vanora sighed, as she looked at the face of each man. Lancelot's jaw was a little tight, his head tilted as he spun a dagger on the table, staring aimlessly at the unique design of its hilt. Galahad and Kay shared the same expression, a bored and sad look, as they both sipped their ales little by little. Dagonet was watching his finger trace the creases in his palm intently, going back and forth. Gawain simply stared off in the distance, focusing on nothing in particular. His eyes were sad, almost lifeless, as he was deep in thought. Tristan was the only one who possessed his same look. He sat back in his chair, quietly picking at his fingernails with the point of a knife, completely aloof. 

"Here you go, boys. A fresh ale for all."

Vanora placed a mug in front of each man, trying her hardest to cheer them up even the slightest bit. But the only responses she could acquire was either a hasty smirk or low grunt. Vanora sighed, placing her hands upon her hips and standing back. 

"Well," she attempted once again, "you all must be excited for the Harvest Festival. I know that each of you enjoy the cheer." 

Bors gave her another brief half-smile, but it only lasted a few seconds, much like the first. Finally, Vanora gave up, slowly turning on her heels and walking back to the bar. She groaned, rubbing her belly that was already swollen. She prayed to the Gods that the child that was growing fast inside her would never have to experience the life his or her father had endured for so long. She prayed that they, and all her children would remain free, and never have to encounter the death and loss.

The men remained silent, even after Vanora had left them, practically unnoticed. Then, a smile sluggishly spread across Galahad's face, as his eyes began to glow with light, staring at the ground. 

"Do you remember that one Harvest when Lamorak was about nineteen or eighteen?"

Kay smiled, "The time he got the most drunk he'd ever been in his life?"

Bors started chuckling at the memory, and Lancelot's famous smirk shone brightly, "Yeah, he was so drunk, that he started to believe that he could fly."

Gawain shook his head, desperately trying to fight the smile that was quickly overtaking his features, "But you told him that he'd never make it with all his clothes on, cause they'd weigh him down."

Sporadic chuckles and half laughs erupted across the table.

"And he went up to the top of the Wall, striped down naked as nature made him, and jumped off with his arms flapping."

Finally, a huge burst of laughter exploded, the men near tears and clutching frantically at their sides. Even the stone cold scout, couldn't help but chuckle and smirk at the memory of that night years ago. 

"He was in the infirmary for a week with a broken arm and sprained ankle. Gods, do you remember the look on Arthur's face when he saw Lamorak high above on the Wall?"

Bors roared with laughter, "Arthur was escorting that old Roman hag, what...Lucilla something or whatever to the main hall. She fainted on sight!"

The men once again laughed as hard as they possibly could. During their reverie though, no one saw the scout suddenly get up and leave, all save for one, who silently watched the knight exit through the Tavern and disappear into the darkness of the night.

The laughter eventually died down, as the men smiled at one another, each lost in their own special memories of the young comrade. He had been so young and full of life, as well as so innocent that he easily fell pray to the endless teasing and badgering of the older knights. But Lamorak had an honorable and pure heart, never holding a foolish grudge or taking anything too seriously.

Kay was the first of the men to break the now happy silence. He lifted his mug of ale to his lips and said, "He was a good boy."

"No," Gawain said, staring off in the distance once more, except this time with a warm smile on his face."

"He was a good man."

He didn't bother knocking on the heavy wooden door, because she already knew he was coming. It was late at night, and they had promised to meet once in the early morning and once late at night until his hands were fully healed. Tristan reached out, pushing the light door, and making his way into the healing chambers. She was sitting at the small desk off the right, quietly filling empty glass vials with a ground up herbs she had just prepared. Her back to him, she took no notice of his arrival. Silently closing the door behind him, Tristan walked over to her with light steps, and still she didn't hear him. He smirked. He loved to do this to her. Just as he stood inches away from her occupied form, Tristan reached his long arm around her, causing her to jump high up in her seat at the sight of a bright red apple suddenly appearing in her face.

She whipped around, but not before grabbing the apple from his hand, "Tristan! You never grow tired of that do you."

"No."

She sighed, rising from her seat, and narrowing her eyes at the scout as he proceeded to make himself comfortable, leaning his back against the post of the sick bed, as he smiled slyly back at her.

"You know one day, I'll turn my back just in time to catch you in the act."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

A beautiful smile appeared across Elaine's face, no matter how hard she tried to fight it back. Finally, she chuckled, her cheeks blushing as she moved back to the desk to retrieve his medicines from a secret chest. Tristan watched her with an amused look, which she made a face at for, as she moved to the empty sick bed, rolling our all her supplies neatly upon the bed, before taking his hand. She peeled back the bandages slowly, and smiled when she saw his skin.

"What are you smiling at?"

"This," Elaine showed Tristan his nearly perfect palm. The wounds that he had privately inflicted upon himself were entirely gone, not even a little scarring remained.

"Impressive, healer."

Elaine turned her nose up at his smart remark, "You have seen nothing yet." She turned, taking his bandages and unnecessary medicines back to the desk, swaying her hips purposely behind her in a sort of mock confidence.

Tristan huffed, "Such arrogance."

"Such shrewdness."

"Hey, I brought you the apple remember."

"Oh, I know."

Tristan shook his head, his heart actually swelling with their banter and teasing. He truly enjoyed conversing with her, even if he only spoke a few words at a time, or let her do all the talking, which she was usually prone to doing anyways. He huffed at the thought, turning his eyes to look around at the room. They quickly stopped on the objects carelessly hidden under the bench at the far side of the room. Tristan frowned as he pushed himself of the bed, stalking over to the bench and yanking the barely concealed items below with great force.

"Care to explain this?"

Elaine turned around quickly in confusion, but immediately froze when she saw what the cunning scout had detected. Her smile faded as she looked back at Tristan with an almost defiant look.

"Going to do a little hunting after our visit, hmm?"

Elaine stalked forward, trying to grab her bow, quiver and riding sack out of Tristan's hand, but he swiftly brought them out of her grasp. She groaned, holding her hand out like a mother would to a bad child.

"Tristan, give them to me."

"Tell me what you intend to do with them first, and I'll think about it."

"Nothing!"

"Yeah,yeah."

He threw the bow and quiver harshly down upon the ground and pushed passed Elaine roughly. He paced like a wild cat, rubbing his hand against his chin. Elaine gulped, but managed to bend down and gather up her supplies. When she dared to look up at the scout again she found that Tristan was inches from her face, his anger fuming through him.

"Let me guess. You sneak out of the fortress in the middle of the night, ride hard into woad territory and try to hunt down the one who slew Lamorak. How am I doing?"

Elaine winced at his calm, but immensely fierce voice. "Yes."

Tristan's jaw tightened, "You are not a fool, Elaine. Don't act like one."

"I am a fighter, Tristan. This is what I do!"

"You go out into a forest you know nothing about, and try to kill one man while surrounded by hundreds just like him? That is what a fighter is to you?"

Elaine shook her head, "You don't understand."

"Enlighten me."

"You know nothing about honoring a fallen one. Lamorak was murdered, you said so yourself."

"I know nothing of honoring Lamorak. Getting myself killed won't honor him."

"I am going to avenge his death."

"No, you are not."

"You cannot tell me what I can and cannot do."

"No, but I can stop you."

With that, Tristan snatched the bow from Elaine's hands, snapping it in two between his strong hands, before grabbing the quiver and taking all the arrows. Elaine stared at him in utter disbelief. Before she could say a thing, the scout stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Elaine stood there for a moment, in the rubble of her bow, replaying the encounter with the man she had recently discovered that she loved over in her mind. She fell to her knees, tears falling freely as she sobbed in her hands. Tristan heard her sobs from where he stood outside, leaning hard up against the door. He hadn't meant to be so cruel. It was only because she was thinking straight. His heart ached in pain, for he had caused the women he now knew he loved, surprising even himself, to cry again. He just couldn't believe that he loved her. Tristan had always thought of love as a weakness. But as he stood against the door, painfully listening to her wept, he thanked the gods for the strength his love for her seemed to give him. For he had to be strong enough to hurt her, in order to keep her safe. 


	29. Festival Part One: Best Friend

Chapter 29

Festival Part One: Best Friend

It was the first day of fall, and the coldest that it had been in months. Despite the sun shining brilliantly down upon the villager of the Wall, many of wrapped themselves tightly in their cloaks and shawls, trying their very best to shield themselves from the cool breeze. It was actually quite pleasant, however, for anything was truly more enjoyable than the intolerable winters of Briton. 

All around the village, people were merrily going about their business, preparing for the night's festivities. It was on this particular night, the first night of fall and the first full moon in weeks, that Harvest was celebrated joyfully. The hard, long work that they had done around and in the fields had been reaped away and stored for the months ahead, and now many could relax and do less excruciating forms of labor. But on the night of Harvest, everyone, from the Roman officers to the lowest of peasants received the night off. 

Vanora and Elaine walked slowly together through the bustling market, each with a basket by their side. 

"Oh, I love Harvest time," Vanora said, smiling brightly.

Elaine chuckled, before she stopped to look at the fresh golden apples just put out for sale. She smiled down at them, as she picked one up and turned it around in her hand. When the farmer who was selling the delicious fruit came up to her, Elaine smiled and purchased the two biggest ones that he had. 

"Yes," she said as she placed the apples in her brown woven basket carefully, and turned back to the patiently waiting Vanora. "Fall is my favorite season, next to spring."

"Can you believe that for a long time, the Roman officials banned the whole festival?"

Elaine shook her head, "Why?"

"Well, because this is the same night as Mabon."

"Oh, yes the pagan holiday for the Fall. But how did they get it all back?"

Vanora smiled sneakingly, "We just changed the name and said it was all about the harvest alone."

Elaine laughed hard, shaking her head at the whole silliness of the situation. 

"Leave it to the Romans to fall for that stunt." Elaine frowned, but smiled again quickly, "I suppose that applies to me as well."

"Well, only in certain times," Vanora said jokingly, as she purchased several brown hen's eggs at a nearby stall.

As they continued to make their way through the marketplace, laughing and talking, the two once again keep a close eye on Vanora's children as they sprinted back and forth across the square.

"So, Elaine."

"So, Vanora."

Vanora made a face at her best friends smart remark, "So, has any man here, or any knight here I should say, finally tickled your fancy."

Elaine smiled, but shook her head, "I have no clue as to what you are speaking about."

"Oh, no you don't . You know you can't keep anything from me for too long, so tell me, or else."

"Or else what?"

"Or..Or else I'll tell Arthur about your tattoo."

Elaine's eyes grew wide, "You wouldn't."

"Oh you know I would. I wonder what he will say when he hears his precious little sister has a Celtic symbol on the small of her back, which I might add is a very scandalous place for anything on a woman like you."

Elaine sighed, causing Vanora's sneaky smile to grow even bigger, "Fine, what exactly do you want to know, you little shrew?"

Vanora giggled, switching her heavy basket from one arm to the other, "Fess up already! I know that one of the knights has captured your affections, I see it in your eyes."

"What if it happened to be Bors?"

"Oh, well I would have to kill you then, wouldn't I?"

The two chuckled once more, Vanora gently shoving Elaine as she made a fake expression of fear shape over her features. "Don't be silly, little girl. Just tell me, please."

Elaine sighed, her heart soaring as she thought of the man she had always loved, and recently found out that she loved him still. She had been so sure in her mind that she wouldn't let her little secret out to anyone just yet, especially not to him. But Vanora was her best friend. They had so much in common, yet were complete opposites in many ways as well. Despite some differences, the two women just seemed to compliment each other so well. It was hard to explain, but all Elaine knew was that she loved Vanora just as much as she loved the men, and thus she could trust her with anything. Why not just tell Vanora? 

"Well, there is one. But, I don't know."

"What do you mean you do not know?"

"It is, well. Well I admit, I have really very strong feelings for him. It is so strange, because I've only been here just a little less than three months, and it's not like we speak to each other so much. But when we are together, even if there are others around, there is just something there. I find it hard to explain. Oh, Van. I've never felt this way before in my life."

"Okay, okay, slow down. First, just what are you feeling?"

Elaine looked up at the sky, her eyes searching the clouds for an answer, "Whenever I'm around him, my heart races faster than any horse could ever go. He makes me smile, makes me laugh. Yet, he's so intimidating as well. I constantly worry about what I saw or do around him, for I fear he'll form an ill opinion of me. His eyes, oh they are so enchanting. I sometimes stop in the middle of a sentence, when I look into his eyes. I just get lost. Sometimes he makes me feel as though I could fly, and sometimes he makes me so angry. Oh, but I just can't ever get him out of my mind."

Vanora smiled, "You're in love, aren't you?"

The lady stopped in her tracks, and stared back at her friend. She had said that she loved him over and over in her mind a hundred times, but when she actually heard it aloud it just seemed to finally sink in. She was in love! That is the only way she could explain the unknown, unfamiliar feelings that she had been experiencing for so long. 

"Yes, I am."

Vanora giggled and was about to wrap her arms around Elaine, but stopped suddenly, "Wait! Just who are we talking about here?"

Elaine's devious grin mirrored the one Vanora had only moments ago. "Who do you think I am speaking of?"

"Oh, do not play around anymore! Is it...Kay?"

"No."

"Is it Galahad? He is around your age."

"No, but he is only twenty three years."

"Dagonet? He deserves a good woman by his side."

"No, but I agree."

"Um...Gawain?"

"No, but he is a good catch."

"Oh Gods! It's Lancelot! I knew it!"

Elaine stopped once again. She had almost forgotten that she still had some similar feelings for the handsome knight stirring beneath the surface.

"No, it is not Lancelot," she said, with just the slightest bit of regret in her voice.

"What? Well, who than? Is it really Bors?"

"No," she said with a chuckle. "Van, I think I am in love with...with Tristan."

Vanora froze, the sudden jerk of her body causing some of the items from her basket slip down to the dirt ground with a low clunk. "Tristan? You...you..you love Tristan. The scout Tristan?"

"What other Tristan do you know silly?"

Vanora shook her head, slowly grabbing the spilt food items from the dirt, dusting them quickly before setting them back into her large woven basket. She sighed again, much heavier though. Elaine noticed her friend's sudden change of mood.

"What's wrong?"

"Elaine, I do not think you're considering things correctly."

"What do you mean?"

"Listen. Tristan is a very dangerous man. He's just not the type of man that a lady like yourself should fall in love with. Tristan isn't one for love, I think. He's just, different from other men."

"That's one of the reasons why I love him. Van, you just do not know him like I do."

"He's so quiet, how do you know anything about him at all?"

"I don't know why, but I think he finds it easier to open up to me. He's told me about his past, before Rome came for him. He's just, lets me in."

"But does he love you?"

Elaine sighed, "I'm not sure. He acts so kind sometimes, almost loving. And yet, sometimes I just do not know. Like last night when he came to me.."

"HE CAME TO YOU AT NIGHT?"

Elaine shoved her hand swiftly over Vanora's open mouth, looking around quickly about her and smiling at the villagers who looked up.

"Van, please. We've...Well we have been meeting early in the mornings and late at night so that I could heal an old wound of his. We usually speak then. And he is usually the only one available to take me out to collect herbs when I need them."

"Fine, Elaine. Love him. But I'm just not sure if he is one to give love back."

Elaine frowned, "You do not know him."

"I just do not want you get your heart broken, Elaine. That's all."

Elaine sighed once more, but slowly a smiled broke out across her face. Reaching forward to lock her arm in Vanora's, Elaine hugged her friend to her.

"I know. Thank you."

"Hey, what are best friend's for if not for worrying constantly."

Elaine giggled, "You shouldn't. All it will do will be a strain on you and on the baby."

"Ugh, speaking of which," Vanora groaned, rubbing the swell in her lower belly, "This one is making me so big, so quick, I have nothing pretty to wear to the festival that fits. Besides, it's not like I have many pretty things anyway."

Vanora sighed, looking down at the ground sadly as they walked. Elaine frowned, staring down at her dejected friend. Suddenly, a thought flickered into her mind. She quickly unhooked herself from Vanora's arm, kissed her on the cheek, and began to walk away.

"What? Where are you off to?"

"Van, I think I have something that just might work. Meet me in my room tonight before the festival. Do not be late!"

As she quickly retreated into the crowd and back towards the living quarters, Vanora stared after her. Elaine really must have had something really spectacular rolled up her sleeve to move that fast. 


	30. Festival Part Twice: Target Practice

Okay, well I've started college this week so things are going to get pretty hectic with me. But I promise to try to keep updating as much as I can. How's this: I won't let two days or morego by without updating.

Enjoy!

Chapter 30

Festival Part Two: Target Practice

Tristan's hands moved slowly across the tiny smooth hairs of his gray horse, brushing it firmly with each single stroke. The steed neighed softly, enjoying the feeling of being groomed properly by the trained hand of it's master. It was quiet in the stables, much unlike the annoying bustle in the streets outside, which Tristan of course preferred. The other knights were out probably getting drunk, or getting ready to get drunk already. Galahad and Gawain always tried their hardest to see who could get completely intoxicated the most before passing out, or in Galahad's case, regurgitating all the drink back up somewhere in the streets. The men had always looked forward to Harvest. But Tristan really couldn't find what they usually did at the festival at all different from what they did every other night in the Tavern. It was an excuse, nothing more. He knew that he'd probably find the festival boring, which he usually did, but it did have some rather good chances for watching the people.

When he was finished grooming his steed, the scout patted it's neck softly, before turning out of the stall. Grabbing a red cloth from a nearby table, he quickly dipped part of it in a barrel of fresh rain water at the end of the rows of stalls, as he made his way to sit on the benches. Tristan climbed all the way to the highest bench, where a small window was cut out of the wall. When he got to there, Tristan sat and opened the shutter of the window so that the sun could shine through, as well as fresh air. Then he turned and pulled his long curved sword from it's tough leather sheath. Pointing it out in front of him, then to either side, than down below him, the scout's dark and keen eyes scrutinize the sharpness of the blade. He carefully ran his nimble thumb and forefinger down the length of the sword's edge, skillfully able not to draw a drop of blood from his skin.

He sighed, taking the damp red cloth in his other hand and cleaning the blade's edge accurately. As he worked the sword, his mind ultimately drifted back to the annoying subject it had been on moment before. Elaine. Not only had he tried to escape the aggravating people outside with their frivolous preparations for that coming night, but also to get away from the evident presence of Elaine everywhere. For it seemed to him, that no matter where he went, everyone and everything reminded him of Elaine in some form or another. That morning, right as he was leaving the dining hall, a small girl with long dark brown and wavy hair ran passed him giggling. Than, he's seen someone walking around with a blood red hooded cloak, a new bushel of golden apples, and he swore that he had heard her laugh once, but when he looked back he had not found her in sight. If he didn't stop thinking about her so much soon, he was sure he'd be completely mad come sundown.

Dropping the now dirty cloth on the bench beside him, Tristan stretched his back and reached his finger up to rub the side of his cheek, right over the spot were his black tattoos rested. His finger lingered there for a moment and his face grew stone cold when the memory of the day he had received those marks suddenly came flooding into his mind.

His father bent down so that he could look down into his young eyes, as his mother came up from behind him, placing her hands gently on his shoulders.

"Tristan, my son," his father had said in a calm and serious tone. "You must be brave today. There will be great pain, but you must be brave."

"Yes, father."

His father's dark eyes shined as his smile reached across his entire face.

"You make me very proud son."

Tristan only nodded, as his father raised and looked across at his mother. They all left the hut together, walking slowly towards the village square where the holy man was waiting by the bonfire. It was a dark night with the stars shining brightly in the sky. The entire village was awaiting the arrival of Tristan, the boy they said was the first ever in their tribe to receive this rite at such an early age.

Tristan lowered to his knees before the wrinkled holy man. His old hand reached down to take the boy's face in his hand, and acted quickly taking the boy by surprise with the sharp needle. Tristan flinched as the hot metal pierced the flesh of his cheek. A searing pain coursed through his whole body with every movement, every scratch, until eventually his tears began to mingle with the dark ink that seemed to dry fast on his youthful. But he did not cry out or grimace. Men more than half his age had cried out before him, but at only ten years, Tristan stood absolutely still. Suddenly the holy man drew away, letting the young boy fall to the ground with an unceremonious thud. He groaned, but managed to look up at the crowd. His eyes soon met the eyes of his father, whose one swam with pride, for his son had made his first kill and now was a man. Tristan stood on shaky legs, lifting his fist into the air as he did. There was silence for a split second before the village erupted into a loud roar.

"RUSSSSSSS!"

Tristan shook his head, attempting to loosen the old memory from the tight grasp of his mind. It was to dangerous to delve into the past.

"SQUAWK!"

A smirk rose on the scouts knight, but he did not look up to see that his hawk was standing upon the sill of the open window just beside him. That was until something red clasp in the bird's claws caught his eye. It was a rose. Tristan had trained the hawk to find them deep in the Woad forest for him, just in case. This time though, the bird had brought the flower all on its own will.

"What do you plan to do with that, hmm?"

The hawk's head darted about, and his claws tightened around the stem of rose. He let our another cry, as if he was giving the scout an answer.

"Traitor."

Arthur and Lancelot walked slowly together, side by side, down the long hall leading out to the top of Hadrian's Wall. The two men had just gone out riding along the southern side of the Wall together, to do some last minute inspection of the woad surrounded area. They wanted to be especially careful on a night like the one they were expecting that night. With everyone in the throes if celebration, they were clearly vulnerable to attack.

"We should post more guards along the southern wall tonight," Arthur said, almost more to himself than to Lancelot.

Yet, the knight hadn't heard his commander and friend in the first place to have remarked on Arthur's overprotectiveness. Lancelot was lost in a world of jumbled thoughts, and he even grimaced as he desperately tried to sort all the things that soared through his mind. Arthur quickly took notice of his best friend's unusual silence.

"What troubles you Lancelot?"

The dark knight gave the Roman a swift smirk, before he looked back down to the stone ground as they continued to walk together.

"I suppose I can say the same about you, Arthur. You only make that worried, scrunched up face..."

"Scrunched face?"

"When you are troubled with something, yes."

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head back and forth. "The troubles that plague my mind are the troubles that seem to always plague my mind."

Lancelot sighed with his famous smirk across his face, "Arthur, Arthur."

"Lancelot. You're avoiding my first question."

Lancelot chuckled, and smiled as his companion pegged him down correctly. The knight had spent almost the entire day thinking about Elaine, and the strange, foreign feelings her felt for her. He wanted her. Plain and simple, he longed for her to be his. But not just in the normal sense, for what he felt inside for her wasn't normal. He wanted her to want him. And now that he was with Arthur, he wanted to tell him what he felt. The words that Lamorak had said to the commander, were on the very tip of his tongue. How he wanted Arthur's blessing! And this shocked him so much, for he actually cared for Elaine.

"Lancelot?"

"It is nothing Arthur. I'm just trying to decide which lucky wench will be on my lap tonight during the festival. Decisions, decisions."

Arthur smiled, looking across at his friend. When they finally came to the open end of the Wall that looked down upon the training and shooting ranges, Arthur turned to Lancelot.

"I must leave you here, there is some Roman guards tha..."

Lancelot waved off Arthur, "No, no I don't want to hear it. Not today."

Arthur just smiled, patting Lancelot's back before wandering swiftly down the stone stairs that ran against the great Wall. Lancelot sighed, shoving his long fingers through his black curls. He was such a coward.

A sudden series of quick movements on the shooting ranges below caught Lancelot's attention in the corner of his eye. He stared down below at the interest, leaning down to rest his forearms on the stone edge of the Wall. A genuine smirk ran quickly across his features as he watched the strange scene down below.

"What have we here?"

Just moments before, Gawain, Galahad, Dagonet and Bors all sat about the wood benches that ran along the edges of the shooting range, at a safe distance from any flying arrows. The men laughed and spoke of the Harvest that would be upon them that very night. Gawain and Galahad stood after a few moments, and began sparring together with short swords. The two older knights watched with mild interest, calling out insults and banter as the fight went on. Finally, Gawain put up his hands, panting with the hard excursion.

"Fine, you win."

Galahad laughed, "You're damn right I did!"

Gawain frowned and shook his head, "I am saving my energy for tonight, as should you."

"Yeah, yeah. Excuses won't work," Bors said, not looking up as he wiped the blade of his small axe.

"Well what's this," Gawain said, ignoring Bors and looking at ahead as he leaned back on the bench behind him.

The men looked up at once, just as an approaching Elaine came upon them, baring a new bow and quiver in her hands. She smiled at them, setting her equipment down upon the bench beside Dagonet, before she began to string the laces of the arm band on her forearm and slid on the leather finger guard. The knights just stared at the Lady with an amused look on each face. It wasn't everyday that one would see a Lady of the Wall, dressed in a long brown gown, standing in the shooting ranges stretching and testing the string of her bow.

As she glided over to the area where archers could shoot ahead of them where targets stood yards away from them, the men chuckled.

"What are you doing there little one?" Bors said.

"Be careful, Elaine. We wouldn't want you to prick your finger on the arrow," Galahad added with a quick snicker.

Yet, despite their teasing, Elaine simply went on smiling, as if she knew something that they did not. She reached into her light brown Celtic quiver, and retrieved a single arrow before notching in to her bow.

"Doing well so far," Dagonet said.

Gawain stood and made to walk over behind her, "Would you like me to help show you how it is done, my lady." The men erupted in laughter, but Elaine simply went on smiling, aiming her bow as she did.

"See that one way over there, in the farthest target," Gawain said right next to her ear, pointing his finger to the far end of the range where an arrow sat in the middle, "That's mine."

The men laughed again. Elaine forced a laugh, her eyes meeting the men's amused ones. Suddenly, while her eyes still remained on the men, she raised her bow and shot. The arrow soared through the air with a slight whistle, before it lodged itself right into the middle of the target, splitting Gawain's own arrow right down the middle. The men sat in shock, each's own jaw was hanging low to the ground.

Gawain stared at the target completely dumbfounded, "That...it...split the arrow."

"You did not even look where you shot!" Galahad said, standing and moving behind the lady beside Gawain to get a better look.

Elaine shrugged, "It isn't nice to tease a woman. Especially one trained for fourteen years by the Celts."

Bors broke the shocked silence with a roar of laughter, patting Dagonet's shoulder hard. Elaine joined him as she began to shoot arrow after arrow expertly into each target. After a while, the men settled down and watched Elaine with special interest.

Just as Elaine had shot another arrow, and as it soared through the air towards it's destination, another arrow shot out from behind her, wisping past and miraculously striking Elaine's arrow in midair before it hit the target. Shards of wood exploded in the air, as the second arrow hit the farthest target right in it's middle. Elaine gasped as she looked at the remains of her arrow, before she spun around to see an aloof Tristan behind her. He walked right to her, than turned to be at her side.

"Tristan!" Bors laughed at Elaine's surprised look.

"That was a little rude," Elaine said, bending down to scoop up another arrow from her quiver.

Tristan simply huffed, notching another arrow in his own bow, "I know."

Elaine frowned at him as she shot another expert shot into the middle of a target.

"I see you've gotten yourself another bow," he said as he shot his own arrow into the same target, his going in a bit better than hers.

Elaine groaned in annoyance, making the scout smirk in amusement. Bors took notice of the slight banter and competition between the two, and an idea instantly shot into his mind.

"Eh, you two. Perhaps you should settle your differences in a friendly little competition?"

The ears of the men perked up and a slow smile spread across the face at each. Elaine and Tristan gave each other a curious look, before they turned back to the older knight in a silent agreement.

Bors clapped his hands together and rubbed them against one another, as he smiled mischievously.

"Okay, here it is. Ya both get twenty-five arrows each, put in your own quivers which will be on your backs. When I say go, you both have to shoot five into the shortest target, ten in the longest target, nine directly into the middle target, and one must hit an...apple here that Dag will through up into the air towards the end. First one to finish, wins"  
"Nice job counting," Gawain joked, making Bors to glare down at him.

"Fine," Elaine said as she began to fill her quiver once again.

"Fine," Tristan added, doing the same. The men smiled as Gawain began to take bets from each.

When they were prepared, the two stood poised side by side, and Bors stood up on the benches. He took out his sword an raised it high in the air. "GO!"

The two were off seconds after Bors lowered his sword, and the first five of each archer was into the shortest target before the other knights could turn their heads. Elaine had a slight lead going into the second target, as the two hit ten arrows directly into the center. Yet, it seemed as though Tristan was holding back for something he had stirring in his mind. As the pair hit the last nine into the middle target, Elaine notched her ninth and final arrow and shot. But, before it could hit the target, the wood of the arrow exploded as it was struck with Tristan's ninth. As if on cue, Dagonet let loose the fresh red apple high up into the sky, just as Tristan shot his final arrow before Elaine. The apple spun violently around in the air as the last arrow pierced it right through the middle, and fell directly into his waiting hand. The men stood and applauded.

"She's your match Tristan," Galahad yelled.

The scout turned to the waiting lady, who leaned down upon her bow with a beautiful smile on her lovely face. He walked over to where she stood, plucking the arrow from the apple and taking a rather large bite through it's skin. Elaine giggled, and grabbed the apple from his hand to take a bite from the side of the apple that had remained untouched. He watched her intently.

"Yeah," he said just above a whispered. "She might be."

Lancelot laughed hard as the competition below him ended. He was so amused with the scene down in the shooting range below, that he did not notice that Kay had arrived at his side, leaning down just as Lancelot was on the edge of the Wall. Lancelot raised up, finally seeing Kay, and patting his good friend on the shoulder before turning to leave.

"Those two are an interesting pair, are they not?"

Kay watched as Lancelot left laughing as he went, and shook his head before his sight traveled down to look at the scout and the lady below.

"You have no idea."


	31. Festival Part Three: Topsy Turvy

Thanks again for all your lovely review. Right now I'm really stressed, but you guys help me write which helps me relax. You guys are my favorite people!

**Oh and Knightmaiden -** Thanks for your wonderful words of support. I'm actually attending University of Michigan! Go Wolverines!

Here's the next Chapter

Enjoy and go ahead and tell me what you think!

Chapter 31

Festival Part Three: Topsy Turvy

Music played joyfully, wine was poured generously, woman danced about merrily, children wove through the tall legs of the adults, and fires glowed fiercely as the Harvest Festival raged on in the fortress of Hadrian's Wall. The skies where clear and the full moon was brighter than most had ever seen it before, as everyone laughed and celebrated the most favored celebration of all year. All the knights sat at a large table in the open end of the Tavern together, drinking and joking with each other as the festival went on. Many of the wenches and the villagers danced about to the music of a fiddler and piper right before them.

"Oh! I'm too drunk!" Galahad lifted his mug to his lips, bending his head backwards and almost tipping back over in his seat.

Gawain guffaw quite loudly, but held tight to the hips of the wench who sat giggling upon his lap. Bors and Dagonet amused themselves in a friendly gambling game of dice with three Roman guards. Dagonet was having a very lucky night, rolling twice sixes that beat a particularly gruff looking Roman, but the gentle man kept very humble about it all, leaving the boasting to Bors at his side. On the third roll, Dagonet rolled yet another pair of sixes, making the dirty Roman slam his hand down hard on the table.

"You cheat! There is no way you could have..."

Bors slammed his own hand upon the table, but even harder and much louder than the Roman had done before him.

"Sit down!"

Fear instantly shot through the Roman's face, but he only frowned at the knight, before taking his spot once again. Kay, who was sitting upon the other side of Dagonet next to Lancelot, snickered before sipping his mug dry. A saucy blonde wench winked at the tall, handsome knight from across the room and began to make her way towards him, trying to look seductive by the way she held her bar tray upon her swaying hips. Lancelot groaned when he saw the wench making eyes at Kay.

"Believe my friend," he spoke in a low voice, bending his mouth towards Kay's ear, "you don't want that one tonight."

Kay cocked up his eyebrow and smiled, with a chuckle on his lips, "Why?"

Lancelot shook his head, sitting back in his chair, "Let's just say she's not one for sharing."

Kay frowned, thinking upon Lancelot's words for a moment, before the point struck him like bricks, and he made an 'Oh' shape with his mouth. When the wench came up to Kay, preparing to offer him one of her mugs, Kay waved her off, and stood up fast to go stand by Tristan in the corner of the room. The wench frowned as the handsome knight walked away but caught the smirk on Lancelot's face. She glared at him, huffed and quickly retreated back towards the bar. Lancelot laughed hard as the woman stormed off. But his laughter was cut quite short when his eyes drifted over towards the entrance of the open Tavern. His heart beat fast, as he stared with hungry eyes at the figure who had just walked in.

Tristan just about dropped the mug of ale he hadn't really been drinking in the first place when he saw her walk in. She was more beautiful, if that was ever possible, than he had ever seen her before. His mouth went dry, and he swallowed hard the lump that immediately formed in his throat upon first seeing her. It was if she had miraculously slipped out of some ancient myth; a goddess, basking and glowing in the silver moonlight, gracing him with her enchanting presence. It was true, the moonlight seemed to make her glow. She wore a long white flowing gown, made of the softest material imaginable, that had tiny jewels stitched right into the fabric, reflecting the white light from above. The gown went modestly low on her chest, with long rippling sleeves that exposed her shoulders, but went down half way were it allowed her forearms to show as well. Her dark brown hair was especially wavy that night, and had a little less than half put back while the rest fell down around her shoulders and down her back. The hair that was swept back softly was held in place by sparkling hair jewels that formed flowers and were connected by dangling strands of precious stones. Tristan had to tighten his grip on his mug, to remind himself not to give himself away. But he found it too difficult to tear his eyes away from her form. The only thing that would break him of her bewitching spell was a swig of the disgusting, thick liquid in the wooden mug he held. But, of course, it took more than just one.

Elaine smiled as she entered the Tavern, her eyes immediately searching for Tristan. When she finally saw him, drinking in the corners of the Tavern with Kay at his side, her heart fluttered. She took a deep breathe, reminding herself of her mission, as she ultimately sought out Bors among the rowdy patrons of the Tavern. Elaine made her way through the crowd, catching some eyes as well as some unwanted whistles, before she made it over to where Bors sat. The rather drunk Roman guard, whom by now had lost most of his earnings to Dagonet, smirked as he saw the beautiful maiden approach. Before the smiling Elaine could open her mouth to speak, a grubby arm reached out suddenly to wrap itself around her waist, pulling her down hard in the ugly Roman's lap. In complete shock, Elaine's eyes grew wide as she held her mouth open in surprise.

"You, are the most gorgeous creature I've ever seen," the disgusting guard said, nuzzling his nose up against Elaine's neck.

Bors growled, "Get your claws off her, you piece of shit!"

The guard laughed, his hands tightening around Elaine waist, pushing her deeper into his lap. She gasped, tears of embarrassment forming in her eyes.

Lancelot stood suddenly, his chair flying backwards with a loud crash, which made the rather large crowd become silent rather quickly.

"Don't you touch her again, or I'll slit your throat."

Again, the guard simply laughed, probably too drunk to take in account the fact that he was being warned by a Sarmatian Knight. He rubbed his hands up against Elaine's exposed creamy shoulders in almost defiance to the knight's words. His actions caused the rest of the Knights to stand up in their places, but still the guard cuddled the lady to him tightly.

"Let her go, for you already face a hard punishment."

The men turned to see Arthur behind them. His fists were clenched tight, and his eyes were blazing as if they were set aflame. The guard's jaw tightened as he stood, his arms still held tight around the still shocked Elaine.

"Come, love," he said into her ear, "I wanna dance."

The men glared as the drunk guard began to drag Elaine backwards to were the people were once dancing. He smirked at the knights, but was surprised when they all smirked back. Suddenly, the man felt a greatly painful sting to the jugular of his throat. Blood dripped down, as the scout held a dagger tight to his throat. Tristan reached in front of them both, detaching Elaine from his grasp with one arm, and bringing her to his chest. Elaine buried her face in his neck in embarrassment, her fingers clutching to his shirt. But as soon as she felt him, as soon as she smelled his scent, her racing heart began to calm.

"Leave now, or feel the rest of this blade in your throat," the scout growled lowly, his free arm still wrapped tightly about Elaine's trembling shoulders. The guard finally trembled in fear, for he had heard stories of the scout, that even in his advanced drunkenness scarred him to death. He backed away, before practically sprinting out of the Tavern as fast as his wobbly legs could go. The two stayed that way for a couple of moment, she clasping him closely with her tiny fingers , her head still hiding against his chest, and he staring at the fleeing guard, with his arm wrapped protectively around her, and his other still raising the dagger out before him. The others stared curiously at the couple, surprised to see the scout holding the lady in such a way. After some time, the crowds began to get quite rowdy once again, turning away from the scene, and Tristan eventually let go of Elaine, slipping away from her before she could respond. She stood for a brief moment, her body aching with the withdrawal of Tristan's warm, safe arms, before she blinked and turned back quickly to the rest of the men.

Arthur came upon her first, rubbing her shoulders as if to wipe away the feelings that the man had left behind on them. "Elaine, are you alright?"

Elaine finally smiled, staring up with warm eyes to her brother, "Yes. Do not worry."

She quickly turned to the now sitting Bors, who had been watching her with sympathetic eyes as she approached. A mischievous smirk replaced the reassuring smile that had been on her face moments ago, as she stood before Bors.

"Well, Bors. Have you seen your lover anywhere tonight?"

"No, actually. And I'm starting to wonder if I'll ever. Have you seen her?"

Elaine tipped her head, placing her finger on her chin as if wondering about something in particular, "Well, I thought I saw her, but I not quite sure."

"Whatdaya mean you weren't sure, girl?"

"Well she looked like Vanora, and she spoked like Vanora, but I just wasn't sure if it was truly her."

"Yer not making too much sense, little girl."

Elaine smiled, pointing her finger towards the entrance, where all eyes followed, "Well, take a look for yourself."

All jaws dropped to the floor when a gorgeous, voluptuous red head entered the Tavern. It couldn't be Vanora. Could it? Vanora wore a dark, brilliant blue dress, that had lovely designs along it in bright gold thread. The sleeves went almost off her shoulders, showing just the right curves, and the skirts billowed out slightly, giving Vanora a flowing look. Her red hair was similar to Elaine's design, except that more of Vanora's hair was swept back, held by two deep clips encrusted with blue jewels. Vanora smiled, winking at Elaine with thankful eyes, as she relished in the look Bors was giving her. She truly needed that sort of look when she felt at her most unattractive during her pregnancy.

"Van?"

"Yeah, you big old oaf. It's me."

Bors chuckled, swooping the woman up into his strong arms, planting a passionate kiss on her waiting lips. He than took her by the hips, raising his hand high in the air.

"She's all mine!"

Vanora slapped his chest, but couldn't help but laugh cheerfully as the other men applauded and cheered. She felt so beautiful.

Bors quickly turned to Elaine, grabbing her up in a huge bear hug, and clinging her to him so tightly that Arthur had to gently pull her from his grasp.

"You are one of Arthur's angels."

Elaine just giggled, hugging Arthur slightly as he laughed. The crowd looked on as the two lovers cuddled and kissed. Soon, the fiddlers and the pipers started up with a lively tune. Elaine gasped, taking her surprised brother by the hands.

"Come dance with me."

Arthur's eyes grew wide, and he pulled hard against his sister's hands, "No, no I don't dance."

Elaine made a sad face, her lower lip pouting, "Oh, Arthur. I have been away from you for nearly fifteen years now and you won't even dance with me. Don't you love me anymore?"

"Nice, but that is certainly not going to work."

"Well, this will," Lancelot said as he suddenly pushed Arthur quickly out onto the dance area, with the help of a giggling Elaine. Arthur was stiff at first, but after a few minutes, Elaine actually got the hard Roman Commander to spin her around, both laughing with the happiness they had desired for fifteen years. Lancelot was quite taken aback by Elaine's uncanny ability to unleash the real Arthur, the fun, carefree Arthur free of worry or doubt. As he stared at his best friend and the woman who had captured his heart so easily, spinning and dancing about to the festive rhythms, something simply clicked in the dark Knight's mind. He knew if he was ever going to make his move, it would have to be tonight. It would have to be now.

Standing suddenly from his seat at the knight's table, Lancelot stalked decisively towards the dancing siblings, his eyes never leaving the target of his deep desire. He put on a smile when he neared them, firmly tapping on Arthur's shoulder with his two forefingers.

As Arthur turned about to face his friend, Lancelot eyed Elaine.

"I think you've had about enough fun to last you the night. How about you let me have a turn, Arthur."

Elaine chuckled and Arthur smiled, panting slightly with the tiring excursion known as little sisters. He patted Lancelot's shoulder, and offered Elaine's hand to the knight.

"She's all yours, Lancelot."

As he left, Lancelot smirked down at Elaine, lowering his lips to her ear, sending shivers down her spin, "Let us show them all how it's really done, Elaine."

Suddenly, Lancelot spun her around, causing her to burst into a fit of giggles. Lancelot laughed heartily, placing his able hand on the small of her back, drawing her closer to him as they began to sway to the music. Before long, a heated gaze passed between them, and as the music suddenly transformed into a slower rhythm, Lancelot moved his hand to her soft cheek, tracing her delicate jaw line with his thumb, before bringing it to the tip of her bottom lip. Elaine gasped silently, as Lancelot once again lowered his mouth to her ear.

"Come," he whispered, not truly waiting for a response before he lead her quickly out of the Tavern. A shadow followed the two, as they made their way quickly up the top of the stone stairs, up high on the wall overlooking the darkened valley below.

Elaine was trying desperately to catch her breath, when Lancelot stopped and turned to her bringing her body close to his. He rested his on of his hands on her waist, while the other one began to caress the soft skin of her face. Elaine stared up at the knight in confusion. His eyes unnerved her. They were filled with hunger, with adoration, and with love. Elaine visibly shook as the knight opened his mouth to speak.

"If I don't do this now, I may never get the chance."

Elaine shook her head in confusion, "What do you speak of, Lancelot?"

"I speak of this," Lancelot took Elaine's palm and placed it directly over his heart. "Never before has a woman made it beat that way. You are not like other women, Elaine. You are some sort of goddess on earth, and I know if I do not do this now, I will loose you forever."

"Lancelot..."

The knight up a long finger to her mouth, instantly silencing her. Than he slowly moved his lips down, grazing her soft ones lightly, before bringing them down with a little pressure. Elaine was shocked, but allowed the knight to caress his lips with hers. The kiss was passionate and sweet, but Elaine couldn't accept it. Something was off, something was wrong. A loud crash from behind them, broke her from the moment, and she pulled quickly away. Before he could speak, Elaine turned and ran down the stairs, tears slowly falling from her eyes. She didn't exactly know why they came, only that she felt she had made a grave mistake in letting the kiss go on like it did.

Before she reentered the Tavern, Elaine took a deep breathe, wiping the tears from her eyes. She was instantly met with the sight of Dagonet and Kay, lifting Galahad by his arms, as the obviously drunk knight's head slunk forward.

Elaine became worried, "What had happened?"

"It appears Gawain had won," Kay said as he struggled with the youngest knight.

Elaine sighed, lowering before Galahad, and peering up into his half closed lids. She felt the top of his forehead with her open palm, before standing and addressing Arthur, who stood nearby.

"This much drink is pretty dangerous, even for one who is used to it. He needs a special brew I can prepare, but I need an herb called silky dogwood."

"Can he wait until tomorrow to receive it," Arthur said, his stern face returning, "It is dangerous out tonight, especially for you."

Elaine waved him off, "If he doesn't receive the brew tonight, he may get poisoning. If you want to send somebody with me, that's fine, but I must be done tonight."

Completely out off nowhere, Tristan forcefully grabbed Elaine's elbow, yanking her to him. She winced, knowing that come morning, she'd have finger sized bruises on her elbow.

"I'll take her," Tristan growled, not waiting for an answer, before dragging Elaine away towards the stables. Something told Elaine, that she was in for a interesting night.


	32. One quick thing

I just wanted to add this little note. 

plzkthx101- I'm really sorry that you feel that way towards Elaine, and I do believe that you have some really good points. I admit that I sort of got carried away with some descriptions of Elaine, but I really don't think she's too perfect at all. Yes she's very pretty, and yes a lot of people like her, but she's far from perfect all by herself. She has great insecurties, for example she often second guesses herself around Tristan, and she usually tends to loose her temper rather quickly. She also has little confidence in herself, as is the case when she has trouble telling Arthur of her past. I wanted her to appear as this goddess-like beauty, but really she is just as insecure as any other person. And really, the times were I am writing about her, it is usually in a male point of view, which I'm sure alot of us can say isn't always clear. And sorry about the jewels, a little mistake.

Please don't hate Elaine! I would hate it if you just stopped reading, because I am about to delve into her past, which isn't going paint a truly pretty picture of her, believe me.

I really appreciate you views, and I am truly sorry if I was not clear on some of her lesser traits. But this is my first fanfic, so I have very little experience.

Please keep reading and I hope things turn out the way you might enjoy it. Remember, this is a work in progress, and my own characters really haven't developed as well as the knights we all know.

Thank you for your review nontheless. It's good to get some constructive critiscism sometimes.


	33. Harvest Moon

First of all, I apoligize for such lateness in updating but you have to understand that I've started school again and it's been extremely stressful. Plus, I had a little bit of writer's block cause I had three papers due this week so it was hard to focus on the story.

Some of you have reviewed and spoke of the fact that I haven't just pulled some of these characters out of thin air, but that they're actually featured in many Arthurian legends! Bravo! You've done great research. Just like the producers and writers did in the movie with the featured characters, I too have taken the names of Elaine (a sister of Arthur, lover of Lancelot, and mother of Galahad) and Kay and Lamorak (some of Arthur's famous knights of the round table), and created different characters in a more modern, historical aspect. Oh, and I wanted to add that it is also rumored that Lord Alfred Tennyson's famous poems (he's one of my favorites, so look him up if you can.) The Lady of Shalott is another story of the Lady Elaine, who loved Lancelot but her love wasn't returned. See how I sort of used that too?

**morigan - I have been fortunate enough to actually visted Brittany once when I was younger. Very beautiful, and as you might have seen, it really has influenced my love of the great legends and stories. Oh, I envy you so much, because I would have loved to live in France! J'espère que tout soit bien avec vous ! **

Anyways, enjoy this chapter and feel free to tell me what you think!

Chapter 32

Harvest Moon

The Harvest Moon was humongous in the midnight sky, rising up over the darkened Briton hills, shedding only sparse white light down upon the land. Shrouded deeply in the shadows, two great steeds raced across the grassy fields quickly nearing the dark lush forest's edge. The rhythmic beats of their hoofs matched, creating a sort of thunderous roar, surging straight for the dangerous territory.

When they finally reached the forest, Tristan was the first to dismount, jumping off his steed with incredible agility. He shoved the reins back up onto the saddle, before stalking slowly into the forest. Elaine, who watched the scout's seemingly angered movements from the top of her horse, visually gulped. She had never before seen such fire in any being's eyes ever. Tristan's jaw was tight, as he paced back and forth. Elaine could only continue to stare at him, but jumped when he suddenly stopped, his blazing eyes burning holes in her.

"Are you coming?"

Elaine gulped again as she quickly shook her head, making haste as she lowered herself from Luka. She grabbed a small sack that had been quickly tied to her saddle then turned back towards the waiting scout. His eyes followed her every movement, as he remain terrifying silent, which only unnerved her even more. As she passed by him on her way to collect her necessary herbs deep in the forest, he huffed and shook his head with a disapproving look. Elaine caught this immediately.

"Is there a problem Tristan?"

Her simple question was just the spark to ignite the fire deep within Tristan's heart.

"No. No, I've only just lost a certain belief I once had. Other than that, nothing." Tristan's face so how remained completely aloof, although his voice was heated and dripping with disgust and anger.

Elaine's eyebrows furrowed. "What's wrong with you? What do you not believe anymore?"

Tristan looked into her brown eyes, making her shake in intimidation. 'Good' he thought. 'She deserves to fear me, just like everyone else. She is no different.'

"I only thought you were different from all the others."

"What other? Tristan," Elaine placed her hands on her hips, as she grew annoyed with the cryptic things her told her, "you aren't making much sense."

Tristan gritted his teeth, the animal inside wakening in anger.

"Did you enjoy it? Did you love the feeling of his hands on your skin? Do you know how many other women those hands have held?"

Elaine huffed, "What are you rambling about, Tristan? I have things to do."

"YOU KISSED HIM!"

Elaine's heart stopped in her chest, but the uncontrollable tremors of great fear began to run up her body. 'Oh, my God,'

"You...you were spying on me?" Elaine stuttered out, trying desperately to sound angry. It was no use. For she knew that he could see the way she trembled at his heated gaze.

He shook his head and huffed, "Anyone could have seen you from high upon the Wall. My lady."

Elaine's chest heaved up in down, in fear as well as in true growing anger.

"You had no right!"

"You are no different, you know that. He's had every woman at the fortress, and he'll have you, than discard you when he's through. You'll be just another notch on the post."

A deafening crack sounded out around the forest, Elaine's palm coming straight across the scout's sculpted cheek. Tristan was silenced, but he showed no effect, staring down upon he with the same angry eyes he had only moments ago. A sharp sting warmed the side of his face where her hand had come down on so fast he hadn't had time to react. But maybe he hadn't wanted to react. Perhaps he wanted the pain. Perhaps he wanted he to stop him. She stared up at him in anger, tiny tears hanging from the bottom lids of her eyes. Tristan noticed that moment that the trembling that had softly shook her body before, now had grown with such intensity that he began to wonder whether she could remain standing before him.

"You...had no...no right," she whispered again, her voice cracking in deep battered emotion. She simply couldn't believe the words that slipped so freely from his lips. From the lips of the man she knew she loved.

Slipping into his genuine facade of the fearless scout, Tristan straighten up, and continued his impromptu interrogation of Elaine, almost as if she were a helpless prisoner.

"Answer me. Did you enjoy it?"

Elaine shook her head, a gasp escaping her lips. "Tristan, you have no right."

"Answer me."

Elaine finally straightened, "Yes."

The scouts hands clenched tight, "Yes, I imagine it would be. No different from the others he's had."

Elaine yelped in anger, "You bastard!"

Elaine pushed Tristan's chest hard, but he stood his ground. Seeing that her first attempt to make him feel the pain she felt inside herself was to no avail, she continued her assault on the scout's firm chest, pounding her small fists wherever she could. Although he was of course very able to take her blows, Tristan soon became rather annoyed and angered, quickly grabbing her wrist in his large hands, locking down on them in a vicelike grip as she struggle to get free.

"Stop," he demanded in firm tone, but she continued. "Stop this now!"

Elaine finally grew tired, slipping from his grasp and falling to the ground upon her knees before him, sobbing uncontrollably. He hate her. He loathed the very sight of her. He thought he no better than a common wench, easily thrown to the side. Elaine's heart broke into a million pieces as her head bowed low to the ground. Tristan's jaw tightened. This is how he had wanted things to go. But how exactly did he imagine things would go?

After a few moments of sadness in both of their hearts, Elaine sniffled, her sobs subsiding. She hated herself, the way she would get hysterical, the way she belittled herself by sobbing so. She straightened, trying her best to wipe her damp face.

Tristan watched as she composed herself, his anger still boiling hot inside of him. His eyes were just as fierce.

"You do not know what happened between Lancelot and I. He has been so kind to me, and I do care very deeply for him. If I chose to kiss him, than it was my choice. You, you have no say in my choices. You are just the scout. Nothing more."

Tristan knuckles turned white, as he watched her turn quickly upon her heal, striding firmly into the deep forest before them. There was no chance in hell he'd let her insult him like that. No one dared to insult him.

Tristan was upon her before she knew it, grasping her still sore elbow in his deadly hands, spinning her harshly against him. The wind was practically all knocked right out of her, as she stared once again up in fear at the scout, her hands pressed against his warm chest.

"He'll have you than you'll be pushed quickly from his bed by another. But don't worry. You'll at least have some time with your precious knight. For a time, you'll be his only whore."

Tears instantly fell down her cheeks, her heart, if it was possible, shattered again into bits. She pushed hard with a labored grunt, slipping from his grasp as she ran as fast as she could into the forest. The tears that flowed so freely from her eyes, fell behind her like rain drops against a hard wind, as she ran farther and farther into the deep, dark woods. The crisp white gown she still wore, tangle and tore in the underbrush that came up from the earth like tiny skeleton fingers, gnawing away at the fabric with a menacing intensity. She cried out in pain when she twisted her ankle a bit, cursing but still continuing to run as fast as she could. No physical pain, not even death could compare with the sorrow that hang heavy over her young heart. She would have given anything he asked of her. But he would never have anything to do with her.

The instant she disappeared completely into the shadows of the wood, a curse slipped from Tristan's lips. He sighed, and actual buried his head in his palm, frowning in sorrow. He was such a fool. For he knew he'd lost her forever now. She had awakened in him the life and spirit that had diminished the day he saw his dead parents lying unceremoniously upon the floor of their tent, their dead eyes staring with a horrible gaze towards the heaven. Elaine had made him feel again. Which wasn't something he welcomed whole heartily, but something he could manipulate if he must. But she was gone. And he was nothing but a fool.

The snap of a breaking twig nearby, immediately alerted the scout, and he whipped his head up just in time to see with his skilled eyes a blue body dash away. Than another one passed quickly, silently in the wood to his right. Than another he sensed ran away behind him. Than another. And another. They were everywhere. Tristan's heart race as he thought of Elaine. He gritted his teeth and grabbed the bow that rest behind his back with his quiver. He'd kill them all.

Elaine burst through a rather small clearing in the forest, falling down upon the soft, grassy earth with a gasp as she tried to control her tears as well as her heavy breathing. But a snapping twig in the forest in front of her quickly alerted the fierce fighter within her, as she whipped her head up swiftly and silently to see a blue bodied man rush back into the brush. She'd kill them all. But the realization of being completely and utterly unarmed, as well as unaware of her surroundings, came crashing down upon her with a great force.

"Tristan," she whispered, turning and standing to limp back into the direction she'd come from.

As she made her way back, Elaine sensed another blue demon rushes past her, practically brushing against her shoulder as they went by. She gasped and swatted her fists out into the air. They were everywhere. Elaine's heart raced with fear as she moved as fast as she was able towards the scout.

"TRISTAN! TRISTAN?"

"ELAINE!"

Tristan had already shot and killed three of the menacing devils, but still he hadn't come upon Elaine. Fear course through his heart, despite his apparent deadly features and movements in the pitch dark forest. If they found her first, if they got to her first, they'd...No they wouldn't get to her first. He would.

"ELAINE!"

"TRISTAN!"

"ELAINE!"

Elaine spun desperately around, gasping as her eyes darted across the forest, noticing more and more blue body rushing back and forth like racing bees to a hive. She panicked, continuing to spin around to find an escape. Something told her that the end was near. Where was he? Oh, God if something happened to him...

Suddenly a firm hand grabbed Elaine by the shoulder, spinning her around. She screamed, until she saw that it was Tristan standing before her. She sighed a great relief, tears of joy slipping down her cheek. It was than that she first say the fear in his eyes. The two stared at each other for a moment, before falling into each others arms, grasping and pulling at the other to make sure they were actually there. Tristan ran his glorious hands up and down her body, sending shivers up her spine. Thinking she was trembling in pain, Tristan pulled back to stared into her eyes. They simply looked into each other's eyes. Than, Tristan slipped his hands around to cup her smooth face, tilting her lips up towards him. Both of their hearts beat with such urgency, such passion that neither could stand the tension. Tristan swiftly lowered his anxious lips to her waiting ones, crushing into her with a firm but delicate kiss. An instant spark made both jump slightly as they made contact, slowly exploring each other in their deep kiss. Elaine gasped against his mouth, making Tristan groan against hers in return before he dared to smooth his tongue over her closed lips, awaiting her permission. Elaine's heart beat hard with nervousness, but she slowly opened her mouth to him, delighting in the sensations he sent through her body as he explore he sweet mouth. She moaned and pushed his head closer to her to deep their kiss, which awakened the animal deep inside Tristan. A fierce, passionate creature emerged, crushing her lovely form to his frame, moving his hands over her body with a slowly, torturing stride.

Slowly, the kiss ended, and the two drew away from each other, but remained in their passionate embrace. As their chests heaved up and down, Tristan searched Elaine's eyes for some sort of answer, any response. Had he done wrong?

A beautiful and reassuring smile crept across her mouth, as she moved her hand to caress his bearded cheek. He sighed, pressing against her palm.

"I was beginning to fear you would never to that," she whispered.

He huffed in his usual tone, "It's come up in my mind from time to time."

Elaine smiled again, before she reached up pulling him down into her lips again. He breathed out before meeting her lips again. He could get used to this physical contact thing.


	34. Stitched Together

Hey Everyone! I'm back! I'm so sorry that it has been ages since I've update, I've just gotten so unbelievably busy!

I want to thank each one of you for the completely heartwarming reviews! They have really touched my heart and inspired me more than you'll ever know.

Here 's the next Chapter!

Tell me what you think!

Chapter 34

Stitched Together

As the warm rays of the sun shone through the archways of her stone windows, Elaine sighed and closed her eyes. The early morning air of that particular fall day held a strange sort of sweetness, that was indeed pleasant to the senses. Elaine smiled as she let the warmth emitting from the sun heat her face, sighing as she brushed back a loose strand of her curly hair. She sat on a low bench, her woven basket of sewing supplies at her feet, as the beginnings of a dress lay draped across her lap. Igraine had taught her many years ago, when she was still just a tiny girl, how not only to construct her own gowns, but also how to sew in elaborate designs and beading. Elaine wasn't immediately fond of the craft, nor was she particularly good. She usually escaped Igraine's daily lessons by escaping away with the young boys of the tribe and Gaelan to train in the arts of war. Yet, after a few years of hard study and plenty of practice, especially when Igraine was quick enough to catch her before she ran off to the fields, Elaine had slowly polished her skills.

A especially soft, strong pomegranate colored fabric swayed back and forth as Elaine's busy fingers stitched a band of small designs around the top. It was to be a pair of long, flowing sleeves she would eventually add to a deep dark blue bodice and gown. Elaine had awoke that morning, completely refreshed with a warm smile spread across her face, and she knew it was most likely the same smile she had the night before as she lay her head down to sleep. The sun was shining, birds were chirping right outside of her chamber window, everything making Elaine wonder if she was still in the world of her glorious dreams. Oh, and what dreams she had dreamt that night. Elaine's finger paused as her smile grew even larger.

Sighing another sweet, happy sigh, a slow tune began to play on her lips. She hummed a old Celtic song of a pair of lovers torn between rival tribes. It had been her most favorite of all the tales that the elders of the Celtic tribes would tell. The two young lovers meet one day in the thick woods and instantly fall in a deep, everlasting love. Unfortunately, there had been a feud between their two different tribes for a hundred years, and the two are torn between love and family. Elaine had always desired a love that great and eternal. A soft chuckle slipped from her lips. Maybe she had. 'Please let it be,' she prayed.

As the lady lost herself in her happy, wishful thoughts, she failed to notice that her chamber door silently opened as a dark figure slipped effortlessly into the room, closing the door behind him. Elaine continued humming the second verse of the romantic song, Tristan smirked leaning his back up against the fall stone wall. His dark eyes peered at her, taking in every inch of her face, her body, the melodious sound of her voice. Everything about her he loved. Tristan fought hard against his growing smirk when he noticed that she still wore her crisp white nightgown beneath a thin blue robe. It was past midmorning and she still hadn't been out of her room, not even bothered to dress. She was such a silly woman. One he'd never understand completely, but one he'd never, ever give up trying to.

Elaine sighed yet again, finishing her last stitch on what would be the right sleeve of her gown, and placing he fabric on her vanity. She did a double take, looking back at her reflection in the looking glass that hung just above the table. Tristan stared back at her from his place on the fall wall, his face emotionless but his eyes, the dark eyes that only she could fully comprehend now, shone with a mystical light.

"You know, scout," she said, looking back down as she set her sewing needled away, pretending not to care, "if my brother knew you liked to sneak into my chamber, I'm sure you'd be in very hot waters."

Elaine looked back into the mirror, her heart skipping a beat when she saw that not only was Tristan stand closely behind her, but that his mysterious eyes had a very heated look in them that sent strange sensations throughout Elaine's whole being.

Tristan leaned down, speaking softly in her ear, "I'll take my chances."

Before she could even close her eyes to enjoy his warm breath on her exposed neck, Tristan's slender hand swiftly scooped her up and turned her to face him. Elaine gasped, shocked at his agile power, but was silenced by a crushing kiss. She moaned against his lips, which she had surprienly found the night before to be sort of soft. Urged on by her pleasure filled response, Tristan took a chance, slowly letting his tongue brush against her smooth lips, secretly asking for permission. Elaine's eyes shoot open, as she was completely taken off guard, but she slowly opened her mouth, her toes secretly curling beneath her gown when he took her completely.

After a few long moments, the two hesistantly broke away, panting from the passion that they brought out in each other. Tristan huffed, brushing away another one of her strands of hair that had made it's way in her eyes. Elaine blushed as she felt him smooth his palm over her cheek. He would always make her feel this way.

"Tha...That was...um.."

"Good?"

Elaine's blush deepened, "Yes. Absolutely good."

Tristan smirked, "I'm here only to serve, my lady."

Her small hand swatted his chest as she giggled once again, "Don't make jest Scout, or I might have to punish you."

Tristan's eyebrow cocked up in response, making Elaine giggle so much that she had to bury her head in his chest.

"So," he said when they finally broke away, "Do you plan to stay in your nightgown all day, or what?"

Elaine's eyes grew wide as her hand immediately shot to the collar of her blue robe to gather it closer over her exposed shoulders. Yet. she was stalled when she discovered that Tristan's hand had drifted down from her cheek to the creamy skin of her shoulder blocking her way. She stopped allowing him to explore the parts of her body he had only dreamt of touching before. Before last night, they had both only dreamt of being together, touching each other.

"Don't," he said, his eyes meeting hers. "Don't ever hide from me."

Elaine smiled placing her hand on top of his, stroking his rough, warm skin with her fingers, which sent tremors straight through his entire body.

"Tristan, last night was...you just don't know how long I've wanted you to kiss me. I never thought that you felt..."

"Really? You wanted me, before last night?"

"Yes, for years."

Tristan huffed, "Well..I want...I had too have..."

"At a loss for words scout?"

Tristan smirked, a sudden boldness entering him once more, "I wanted you too. I wanted to touch you, to kiss you for so long." It was so hard for him to form these words, but he knew they needed to be said.

Elaine reached up, taking his head in her palms timidly. His deep dark eyes met her own deep brown ones, fire blazing between them.

"Elaine, are we...I mean, we're now.."

Elaine smiled, "Yes. I think we are."

Tristan shook his head seemingly indifferent, "Of course. It's not like I'd give you much choice with any other man."

Elaine giggled as the scout lowered his lips to hers, "Oh is that so?"

A loud knock interuppted the two as they looked up at each other.

"Elaine, are you awake?"

The sound of Arthur's strong voice through the heavy planks of wood in her door, caused Elaine's heart to practically stop as her eyes looked to Tristan in fear. He remained absolutely calm, as he smoothed her hair out of her face.

"Oh, no. If he finds you in here.."

"Shh."

Tristan gave her a hand a squeeze before he slipped into the shadows of the corner of her room behind her large chest.

"Elaine, may I enter? Are you al right?"

"Um..yes Arthur."

Her brother quickly opened the heavy door, peering around with a worried look before he looked back to her.

"Are you well, little sprite?" Arthur said, a small half-smile slipping across his hansome features.

Elaine smirked, placing her hands on his hips, and slowly making her way to stand nonchalant in front of her chest.

"Little sprite? You haven't called me that since I was a little girl."

Arthur chuckled taking her small face and cupping it in his large palms. "You shouldn't stay up here all morning or I'm afraid poor Vanora will go insane. She's been asking about you all morning. Come, get dressed and come down."

Elaine smiled, despite the fact that the slight pressure from Arthur's hands mushed her cheeks together, distorting the smile. "I will, I promise you. But go now!"

Arthur chuckled, "Trying to get rid of me? What dear sister, do you have a secret your hiding from me?"

Elaine gulped, "No."

"Well, come down soon or I'll let Vanora loose on you."

When Arthur finally left, Elaine heaved a sigh of relief. A soft hand rubbed her back, as Tristan lowered his lips to the top of her head.

"We have to be more careful."

"Should we not just tell them all, Tristan?"

"Not yet. Too many people are involved right now, that it would only hurt."

Elaine shook her head as she felt Tristan make his way to her door.

Before he slipped silently out, he turned giving her a wink. As he left, Elaine couldn't help but smile, falling back in her soft bed with a happy sigh. Things would certainly be much different now that Tristan and she were together.


	35. Chapter 35

Hello everyone! Okay, I'm not dead or anything, although this story is kind of. I've just been having the most hectic year of my entire life, and I've found it extremely hard to update, or even read other fan fiction in such a long time. And for a while, I had just decided to discontinue writing this story completely, but after much internal struggle, I've decided to come back. This story needs to continue! 

For all of you who have reviewed and supported this story since the very beginning, I personally want to thank you all from the very bottom of my heart. You're continued support, even when I hadn't updated in forever, is the true reason why this is all going to happen again.

Anyways, expect to hear from me real soon with another chapter. For now, please allow me some time to brainstorm and review some of the notes I've made (on everything from napkins to the back of a Cheerios box!) and regroup.

Thanks again and I send my love to all.

SouthernBelle06


	36. The Truth Sets the Soul Free

Hello again everyone! Yes, here it is. After many months, and the final decision to countinue this fanfic to the very end, here is an update! The story will live on!

It's funny, but I actually drew up 5 full pages, front and back, of notes for the next 6 chapters of the story. Believe me, it's going to really heat up! I did all the notes during one of my classes, and the Prof was like ummm...what are you doing? There I was sitting with pages full of tiny print notes and storylines. I looked like a silly fool! But it was a creative writing type class so it didn't look to crazy.

Enjoy, more chapters on the way soon!

Chapter 36

The Truth Sets the Soul Free

A warm glowing sun hung high in the afternoon sky, shining brightly down upon the villages below. Yet, despite the orb's great might, a cool breeze still drifted down the busy streets and alleyways. Autumn hung in the air like a precious little apple on the branch. Arthur sighed as the gentle breeze reached into his stone window from which he sat perched, looking down upon the people below. Tremors went up and down his strong back, as the same breeze chilled him right down to the bone. At that very moment, at that very time, the legendary commander of the Wall, the man who had slain every enemy, was at complete peace. His heavy lids slipped closed and he let his head fall back against the sill of the window. Life for the Roman had changed so much in the past four months; despite his still burdening charge to his empire, Arthur found that his heart was happy. In fact, the only fear that gripped his beating life source was that something would take this newfound tranquility away from him. Arthur knew to well not to put all his hope in peace, for just when you think you've finally contained it, it slips away just as fast.

A sudden firm knock on his chamber door shook Arthur from his silent reverie. "Enter."

The door slid open and Jols entered the chamber with a dutiful confidence. "Arthur, my lord."

Arthur smiled, "What is it Jols?"

"A message from Rome."

Jols held a yellow scroll out and Arthur hesitantly took it from the squire's labor-worn hands. A worried crease appeared gradually upon Arthur's forehead, as the peace he had felt just moments before began to slowly diminish into the back of his mind. He kept it safe there, locked away in the realms of his hopes and dreams.

"I take my leave, my lord."

Jols left the Roman's chambers as respectful as he had entered, closing the door with a firm thud before he ventured out into the halls to go about his afternoon labors. Yet, Arthur had heard not a sound of his squire's departure. He heard not a thing at all. Not the noise from the busy village below his window, nor the birds in the trees, nor the quiet whisper of the flames from his lanterns as the door was closed once more. Arthur's eyes darted from side to side as he read the words that the official scroll held within it's rich parchment. With each passing moment, the young commander's heart swelled with great hopefulness. His breath became labored as his excitement grew, until he grasped the scroll in his fist, holding it firmly to his beating heart.

"Praise God, the time has come."

"ARGH! GODS WILL THE TIME EVER COME?"

Elaine's eyes shot up from when Vanora clutched her now swelling belly and grimaced in pain. The lady quickly stood from the chair from which she had sat peeling potatoes for her friend's stew, and dashed quickly to her side.

"More pains today, hmm Van?" Elaine said, placing her one of her hands on her pregnant belly and the other on the aching back.

Van sighed, straitening up as she did, and frowned with great annoyance. "I swear this one's going to be the death of me."

"Oh, do not joke that way Van," Elaine said helping her friend to set more comfortably at the table.

When Vanora was seated, Elaine pulled her fiery red hair out of her face. One of the first lessons Isolde had taught dealt with motherhood. She had learned special techniques for easing the guaranteed aches during the pregnancy, ointments and medicine to use to bring the mother aid in childbirth, and the procedures to secure the safety and health of both mother and babe afterwards. Elaine smiled as she began to gently rub the certain points in Vanora's neck that she knew would release her from the pain she was feeling. The mother-to-be groaned in relief, causing the young woman to giggle. Memories of the first childbirth she had seen swarmed into her mind, adding to the laughter in her throat. As a prissy fourteen-year old girl, she nearly fainted at the sight of a screaming village woman. Isolde ended up fanning her more than the overheated mother.

"Oh, where were you when I was having all the rest of the children?"

Elaine smiled, coming back to the moment. "Feeling better?"

Vanora hummed, a satisfied smile slowly stretching across her pretty features. "Much."

"That is what I am here for."

Elaine chuckled, sitting across from Vanora to resume the messy labor she had been previous doing. Vanora watched with amused interest as her younger friend held her kitchen knife as if it were a war dagger and the spud was a fierce enemy. Elaine, once she had finished with one, ended up taking off more of the vegetable's inside than the actual skin.

"You've never cooked a thing in your life have you?"

Elaine smiled and closed her eyes as if shamed, "It is that obvious?"

Vanora let out a hearty laugh with the embarrassed woman soon joined in.

"Well, when I was little and still live in the fortress, we ate like the Romans: in a grand hall, with waiting servants and such. And when I was living in Gaelan's lodge, the whole tribe ate as one, surrounding a great long table."

"And somewhere along the line, no one ever taught you how to properly peel a potato?"

Elaine tossed a skin at Vanora playfully, "No, but they did teach me how to cut a man's head off!"

Vanora feigned fear before bursting into a fit of giggles, her round belly jiggling slightly with her mirth.

"There simply wasn't time in between learning all the ways of the healer, training to fight, or learning my other lessons, for learning all the womanly arts."

"Womanly arts? I like that. I'm going to make Bors start saying that."

"Hey, I can really cook you up a good berry soup!" Elaine jumped when she remembered the one dish she had sufficed in not burning.

The two woman erupted into another fit of hearty laughter, that sounded out loud in the small kitchen of Vanora's tiny house.

"Oh, I don't believe I've ever seen you so happy before, Elaine," Vanora said when the laughter died down a bit. "There is a special glint in you eyes that...OH GODS! YOU KISSED TRISTAN"  
Vanora lent forward and grasped the edges of the table with a vice like viciousness, as her sudden realization hit her mid-sentence. Elaine jumped and her eyes grew wide.

"WHAT?"

"YOU DID!"

"NO...WHA...NO!"

"DO NOT LIE, YOU KISSED HIM! OH GODS, YOU DID AND YOU LIKED IT!"

"SHUT...NO..NO I DID NOT...WHY ARE WE YELLING?"

"BECAUSE YOU KISSED HIM! YOU KISSED TRIS..."

Elaine lunged over the top of the table, clasping her palm over Vanora's mouth. Yet, despite her warrior reflexes, Vanora was still able to laugh hard against Elaine's hand.

"Vanora, shut your mouth!"

A mumbling sprang forth from her clasped lips. Elaine gently let her hand slip from her friend's lips.

"What?"

"I said that you've done that already!"

Elaine sighed, throwing herself back into her chair as she quietly relented to her best friend.

"Yes, I did kiss Tristan."

"And you liked it."

Elaine smiled, her heart swelling as she thought of the first kiss she had shared with the dark scout.

"I loved it, with all my heart. But you mustn't tell a soul Vanora, swear to me."

The woman's brow twitched with wonder, "Well why not? You do care for him, don't you?"

"Of course?"

"Does he care for you? Oh, Elaine if he is using you I swear to the gods I'll..."

"No, no he does. I really think he does."

Vanora smiled, "Well I suppose he would have to. It's not like Tristan to go around even touching any woman, let alone kissing one. But he'd be mad if he did not do so to you."

Elaine blushed and chuckled nervously at the compliment. "Thank you, Van."

Just than, Bors entered into the house he shared with his lover. The aging, but robust man groaned as he removed his heavy boots by the door, knowing full well the consequences he'd suffer if he aggravated his pregnant lover with them. As he ventured back into the kitchen, he heard the voice of not only Vanora but of Elaine as well. He paused, considering whether he should enter, but stopped when he heard word kiss uttered from his lover's lips to Elaine. It caught his interest, so Bors stayed hidden in the hall outside, ear to the wall listening in on the conversation going on in his kitchen.

"So, did he kiss you first, or were you the bold one?"

Elaine's blush traveled farther into her cheeks. "Well, we actually just looked into each other's eyes, and we both knew that in that moment, the only thing either of us wanted to do was kiss the other one. I suppose we just fell into the kiss, at the very same time."

"OHHHH! Elaine, I think he loves you!"

"How can you possibly know that?"

"Because...he loves you!"

Elaine chuckled, "That wasn't really an answer."

"Oh, I am so happy for you Elaine."

"I am happy too, but you mustn't tell a soul. We want to keep it a secret for now, so that no one gets hurt."

"I swear!"

Bors's mouth dropped open, and he jumped when he heard the chairs scraped against the floor as one of the women got up. Knowing he'd get pure hell for eavesdropping, Bors made a mad dash to the front door, grabbing his boots before quickly venturing out into the streets of the fortress. Despite his fear that Vanora would come looking for him, the knight could barely contain the absurd smile that crept up his scruffy face. 'That's a good lass,' he thought, happy that Elaine had finally found someone to take her heart.

"OOFF! Damn, Bors."

Bors hadn't even seen Kay coming before he ran right smack into the man. Lancelot chuckled as he followed behind his friend.

Bors instantly grew agitated, "Well, shit! You weren't watching where you were trampling about!"

"Likewise."

"Argh, you ass."

"Again, likewise."

Lancelot stepped in between the two men, before Bors smacked the younger knight upside the head. The dark knight chuckled. "Easy, easy. Where are you off to in such a hurry? Did Vanora tell her she was with child again?"

The mention of his lover's name brought back the pleasant thoughts Bors had had moments before, and his happy smile emerged once more.

"You'll never guess what I just heard."


	37. A New Life

Chapter 37

A New Life

Utter silence filled the space in the Great Hall. Each soul that sat about the massive and ornate round table, was attempting to let the words that the Roman commander had just spoken soak in. The speech rang in their heads over and over again.

"You mean, he's coming within a month's time, here."

Arthur smirked, his heart heavy with emotion as he stared to his right at his first knight and best friend. The hopeful look in his brother's eyes was a sight that he had dreamt of seeing for the past fifteen years.

"Yes, Lancelot. Bishop Germanius will be arriving here at Hadrian's Wall to bring forth your discharge papers. Your freedom."

Silence once again filled the room, as the words of Arthur swarmed around in their minds. Freedom? Their freedom? Each man wondered the same thing at that very moment. They would be free men, in only one month. Free to leave the island that had held them prisoner. Free to return to the land of their fathers. Free to live a life of their own. For so long, it had been just a distant thought in all their heads. A promised treasure that always lay just outside of their grasp. And now, it was there awaiting them. Not only that, but their freedom would be brought to them.

Bors was the first one to break the silence with a glorious roar which evolved soon into a round of laughter. Each knight soon joined in until the whole room was filled with the infectious laughter. Yet, as they all began to speak at once, excitement lacing their words, two still sat in their respected seats, immersed in similar thoughts.

"Men," Arthur said, each man coming to attention upon their commander's word. They took their seats once more, smiling broadly at one another as Arthur stood before them.

"For fifteen long years, you have fought for this foreign cause. You have toiled and bled for this land, and for me. You have shown greater loyalty and courage than any other battalion, or army ever has in this lifetime. When I read the words upon the with mine own eyes, I was filled with great relief for you Knights, and hope that this next month will bring a peaceful end to your service. Yet, at the same time, I was also filled with sorrow. For I mourn the loss of those who have gone before us.Those brave knights, who will not see this coming month. And it is for that reason that I honor them."

A solemn silence set over the hall, as Arthur raised his chalice of wine high above his head, bowing his head just slightly inrespect. One by one the others followed suit. Gawain glanced regretfully to his side where Lamorak's empty chair sat, cold and sparse. There had been a time where Lamorak had sat in that very spot. A time where he had lifted his own goblet in respect for his fallen brothers. Suddenly, to the golden-haired knight, there seemed to appear an aura of soft light and warmth radiating from the lonely seat.

Gawain smiled tears on the edge of his heavy lids. 'Be at peace, cousin.'

"To Lamorak!" he spoke suddenly.

"TO LAMORAK!"

"TO FREEDOM!"

"TO FREEDOM!"

One by one, the jubilant knights filed out of the Great Hall, passing about a large jug of wine and speaking and laughing to each other of hopes and plans for their imminent release. As they passed into the mid-afternoon light that filtered in from the halls, the dark scout fell purposely behind, stopping just outside the Hall's massive door, and leaning off to side against the wall. Dagonet was the last of the men to leave, bidding Elaine a farewell before rushing off to catch the others. As he passed by, the gentle giant of a man took no notice of the scout who looked after him from the shadows. Soon enough, his prey slipped out from the warm glow of the Hall, hugging her arms to herself as she began to venture out. She wouldn't get to far though, for just as she passed by, a slender hand grasped her waist, pulling her silently into the shadows. Tristan wrapped his arms about her waist, smirking with the thought that he had once again taken her off guard. But the scout froze when he felt a round object being pressed firmly against his rib cage. Looking down into Elaine's smug expression, Tristan discovered that she held a small red apple to his chest.

"I do believe, dear scout, that I am beginning to become quite acquainted with your devices," she whispered with an angelic smile of confidence.

Tristan huffed, unknowingly pulling her closer to his body as he did. "You sure about that, little cat?"

"Yes, I've bested you at last, scout," Elaine said just above a whisper.

Tristan looked intensely into her deep brown orbs, making her hear skip a beat. Slowly, his eyes drifted downward stopping when they reached her lips. Elaine closed her eyes, lifting her head up towards his, desperately awaiting the thing she had longed for all day. As he leaned his head forward, his eyes drifted further down. Elaine's eyes shot open when she heard a loud crunch, and was met with the sight of the top of Tristan's head as he took a huge bite out of the apple she still held high against his chest. Tristan raised his head, chewing noisily and licking his lips satisfied, as he actually smiled down at his love.

"Not so sure anymore, are you little cat, hmm?"

Despite her initial shock, Elaine giggled at her love's antics, burying her head in his strong chest as she did. She savored his musky scent, and her heart celebrated joyfully when she felt his chest shake with silent laughter. Tristan rested his lips on the top of her sweet hair, pressing them down gently in a kiss.

"Tristan?"

Arthur's voice hurled the two lovers out of their moment, Elaine backing away from his warm embrace and munching upon the apple to stifle the surprised yelp she had almost let out. Tristan expertly slipped into his usual aloof shell, his face detached as he began popping the knuckles of his steady hands.

Arthur smiled when he saw that he had not missed his knight yet; he found Elaine and him standing just outside the door.

"Tristan, I am glad I caught you. There is something I must speak with you about. Elaine, would you excuse us?"

Elaine smiled, "Of course. I was just going down to meet the men and Vanora at the Tavern."

Before she left, Elaine kissed her brother's cheek. Arthur turned back towards his knight, and as he did, Elaine gave Tristan one last smile, one saved just for him, before disappearing in the halls.

Tearing his stoic eyes away from her fleeing form, Tristan pushed himself off the wall. "Arthur?"

"Tristan, the Bishop will be arriving at the Wall by way of the main road."

Tristan huffed at the Roman clergyman's misplaced arrogance, "A grand entrance, hmm? That is the most Woad infested path in all of Briton."

Arthur smirked, "Unfortunately, the Bishop has already left Rome and there is no possible way for me to send a warning to him. I doubt I could change his mind anyways; Bishop Germanius is a...steadfast man."

"He'd rather risk his life, all for show," Tristan said, no longer looking at his commander. "You want me to ride out?"

Arthur smiled. Tristan was always one step ahead of everyone else, including him. "Yes. The Woads may venture South of the Wall, if provoked by the prospect of a departure of the Sarmatian Knights. Ride out and observe their movements."

Tristan only nodded, as his commander smiled once more. Arthur patted his scout's shoulder firmly, where only moments ago his sister's head had rested, lovingly whispering to Tristan in the darkness.

"ELAINE!"

The sudden roar of greetings from six rather intoxicated knights surprised the healer of the Wall as she entered the Tavern, causing her to jump high in the air. Each man held a mug of ale in the air and joyous smile on their face. Dagonet, Bors, Gawain, Galahad, Kay and Lancelot all knew that their young companion would most likely come down to join in their merriment soon enough, so they had planned the salute to her upon her imminent arrival.

"Well," Elaine said as she neared the table, placing her hands on Lancelot's and Kay's back. "You all sure know who to properly welcome someone."

"Not just a someone," Lancelot said, reaching behind him to take her small hand in his. He caressed her youthful skin, looking in her eyes with a admiring look that instantly shook Elaine from the moment. His stare made her heart beat fast, and she grew painfully aware of the soft and soothing movements of his nimble fingers upon the skin of her hand.

Slowly, she withdrew her hand, smiling kindly as she did, despite the blush that threatened to crawl even higher in her cheeks. Kay, who hadn't missed a single smile from his friend to the young lady, frowned and fussed about a bit uncomfortably in his chair.

"Yes, well," Elaine suddenly turned on her defensive side, "Lancelot shouldn't you save those words for one of your many barmaids?"

Lancelot chuckled, "I see only you, sweet lady."

Elaine's smile fell slightly, but she continued to tease the dark knight.

"Such a brash man. Tell me, Lancelot, how are you able to walk around all day? I would think that you head has become too heavy with pride for you to balance it between your shoulders."

Again, the knight chuckled and smiled jovially, furthering Elaine's weariness. This simply wasn't like the Lancelot she had come to know. The old Lancelot wouldn't have let her get away with so many jabs at his personality and actions. The old Lancelot would have fired right back, and they would be off once more, jesting as dear friends. But, looking in the shining eyes of the dark knight, Elaine sensed that something had changed.

"Van!"

Elaine hopped quickly from her seat in between Kay and Lancelot upon seeing her best friend coming to the Knight's table.

"Van! How are you doing?"

Vanora groaned, clutching her protruding belly. "Not too good, I'm afraid."

Elaine's face changed instantly from staged interest to genuine concern. Placing her hand upon Vanora's belly, and another atop her head, the healer began accessing the situation meticulously. Van scoffed, standing straight up and brushing her friend's hand away.

"Now Elaine, I'm fine, really," she said moving to setting the Knight's empty mugs on her cleared tray to move back to the bar. "I have carried and given birth to ten very strong, very forceful children. This is just some morning sickness, and it will pass."

Galahad paused in chewing a piece of bread, holding the chunk just outside of his mouth as he said, "But it's mid-afternoon."

Vanora swatted the young man upon the head, making him choke on and go scrambling for his mug. Bors let out a hearty laugh, sliding his arm around Vanora's waist and drawing the chuckling woman to his side.

Elaine wasn't smiling though. "Vanora, you must take every ache and pain seriously in pregnancy, regardless of how many you've birthed in the past. Not every birth is a healthy one."

Vanora grew angry with each word the younger woman said against her, her mood drastically changing. "Listen, Elaine. When I say I'm alright than just believe me."

"Van, I have delivered many children in the past."

"YEAH! Well you haven't given birth though, huh? So, I think I know a thing or two more than you about actually bringing something into this world. Why don't you focus on what you do best? Making your little powders and ointments, prancing around are your pony and cutting off the limbs of people."

Elaine winced at her friends words, lowering her head. Vanora knew the second she had said what she did that she instantly regretted them. Elaine was so much more than that, and what was more, she had saved her life and become closer to her than a sister. But the pregnant woman had already said the words, and her anger was still high. They could not be taken back now.

Vanora slipped from a shocked Bors's grasp, waddling with her extra weight back over to the bar. Elaine lowered herself back into her chair.

"She didn't mean what she said, Elaine," Bors said, instantly pained by the young girl's sad expression. "Believe me, she gets this irritable when she's this far along."

Elaine smiled meekly, "I know, Bors. Thanks."

The table was quickly filled with the sounds of merriment once again, and even Elaine soon forgot the little spat she had just fell victim to with Vanora. Amidst the sounds of Galahad's incessant gambling games with Gawain and Bors's intelliable drunken slurring, Elaine noticed a hand slipping into her own under the table. Looking to her side, she saw that Lancelotwas staring with a look in his eye that she had come to fear. Such passion and desire.

"Meet me in the stables?"

Elaine sat for a long moment, staring right back in his dark eyes. Her instincts were telling her something was definitely going on with her friend.

"Alright."

A moment latter, Lancelot was gone, walking confidently strolling out of the Tavern doors. Elaine watched him for a while, before she turned back to the table. She nervously tapped the tips of her long fingers upon the wooden the surface of the table.

"Nervous?"

Elaine looked to her other side, as Kay sat down with a fresh mug of ale in front of him.

"No."

"Oh, good. You looked a little like it there for a moment."

Elaine could only give a half-smile, her gaze drifting back downward.

"So," Kay said, a little too casual, "Have you been sleeping well here at the fortress?"

Elaine chuckled, "As opposed to the lodges in Shalott? Yes. I haven't felt quite homesick yet."

"Good. You work too hard, and you need you're sleep. Nothing disrupting it, nothing slithering in your chambers at late hours of the night."

Elaine's head shot up, but she couldn't quite read Kay's expression. What was he hinting at?

"I have to go, Kay."

And with that Elaine left the Tavern. As she ventured out into the streets, swerving in and out of passerby's, she felt herself shake with nervousness. Passing quickly by the open door of a barn house, a quick hand dashed out of the darkness inside, pulling Elaine suddenly into a now familiar embrace. Backing them into the barn, Tristan buried his hands in her soft tresses, letting it slide through his fingers as she let her head fall into the crook of his strong neck. Her nervousness instantly subsiding, Elaine sighed, feeling calm and content in Tristan's steady arms, and she began to press warm kiss upon his neck, ignorant to what such a touch did to the scout. Each time her soft lips made contact with the sensitive flesh of his neck, Tristan felt surges of want and need race through his entire body, the effect of which made him close his eyes. Before long, the man growled, taking Elaine by surprise when he swiftly spun her up against the barn wall. He pressed her firmly but gently against the surface, as he devoured her mouth. Their moans mingled in the air of the barn, as their hands desperately felt each other with need. Tristan broke away, clasping Elaine by the waist and lowering her down into the hay that surrounding them in a large pile. Elaine's nervousness sprang back, as her inexperience made her unsure of what all was happening. But, Tristan simply held her face in between his large hands, as he propped himself up on his forearms. He kissed her passionately once more before breaking away so that they could catch there breath.

"Hello, little cat," Tristan said in between their pants and huffs. A bright smile emerged across Elaine's face and she caressed her lover's strikingly handsome face in her hands. Her fingertips traced his dark tattoos as he in turned ran his thumb across the pink flesh of her lips.

"Elaine?"

Tristan and Elaine's heads turned quickly toward the door to see a trembling Vanora propping herself up open the door of the barn. The scout agilely stood, bringing Elaine up with one hand on her back as he did.

Dusting herself off, Elaine moved towards her friend in concern, Tristan falling solemnly behind, thinking they had been finally found out. Both froze when Vanora stepped further into the barn. A large streak of deep red blood stained the skirts of Vanora's dress.

"Elaine, I'm sorr..."

Tristan leapt forward just in time to catch the weakened woman, hoisting her in his arms and carrying her out into the streets, Elaine matching his stride right along side.

"Vanora? Can you hear me?"

Vanora stared up at the stone-face knight who carried her with seemingly no effort whatsoever. She than turned to Elaine with a delirious smirk on her face.

"I was wrong about Tristan, Elaine. He is a good...man...good for you...he does care...for...you."

Elaine called desperately for Vanora, but she had fainted with her last words.


	38. The Longest Night

My classes were canceled today because we had a storm and everything is covered with thick ice. Yay for me, because I was able to write two more chapters. I think I'm trying to make up for the lost time, and for leaving some of you really hanging.

Enjoy!

Chapter 38

The Longest Night

Night set in as six of the great Sarmatian Knights sat outside the healing rooms, eagerly awaiting some bit of news of the premature pregnancy that had begun an hour before. Upon hearing that Vanora had bled out and further weakened herself in searching for Elaine, Bors had raced out of the Tavern, flipping an entire table in his hasty retreat. Now, Kay, Dagonet, Gawain, Galahad and Tristan, who had carried the poor woman the entire way to the rooms, sat in great silence with the obviously worried man.

Galahad was the first to speak, trying desperately in his youthful way to ease the tension that sat about them.

"Arthur should be here soon enough. Lancelot went to get him not too long ago, and...yeah...he'll be here...as soon as he can."

Gawain noticed his friend's apprehensive attempt to calm Bors. "Yes, Arthur will come soon. He'd want to be here, for...all of this."

Soon, even Gawain's words of comfort faded away just as Galahad's had. An uncomfortable silence set in once more, until Bors began to chuckle sarcastically. The men looked towards the man and saw him give a deadly glare at Gawain and Galahad, angry tears on the edges of his eyes.

"All of this, huh?" Bors said, his words dripping with hostility. "All of this!"

Suddenly the eldest of the men stood with great force, charging forward toward the heavy wooden door that separated him from his ailing lover. Bors let out a monstrous roar, balling his mighty fists and pounding on the damned door with so much fury that the it began to shake on its hinges.

"ALL OF THIS? ALL OF THIS? ALL OF THIS?"

Dagonet flew from his place where he leant up against the opposing wall, grasping at Bors elbows to bring the enraged man back away from the door to the healing rooms. Bors swatted his friend's hands away, turning about to face his fellow knights once more.

"All this means is I'm going to loose Van!"

"Bors, hold your tongue," Kay said, standing up quickly at Dagonet's side.

"Damn you!"

Bors turned around again, raising his fist again to make yet another assault on the barrier that kept news about his lover hidden behind it, but as he lowered them down once more, he was surprised when something held them back. Bors shot to his side, seeing that Tristan was standing there, his strong hands holding back Bors firmly, his demeanor deathly calm.

"She knows what she's doing," he said bluntly, but with a serious tone that made all sound and movement cease.

Bors became immediately silent, but glared at the scout and yanked his arms from his grasp. Fervently pacing back and forth, like a caged bear, Bors resumed his silent fuming and the men all sat back down in their usual seats. Tristan exhaled, his withdrawn expression resting firmly upon his countenance, as he went back to leaning to the left of the door. He resumed popping and gnawing at his knuckles, his mind alert despite his thoughts drifting back to where they had resided moments before. The scout began to replay the events that had occurred less than an hour before, noting mentally the words Vanora had said before she had blacked-out. So, she knew about Elaine and him, and Elaine must have told her such. As the knuckle of his middle finger cracked loudly, Tristan thought of he'd have to have a little talk with Elaine when all this was over.

The loud footfalls of the quickly approaching Arthur and Lancelot from down the hallway alerted the other knights.

"How is she?" Arthur said to Dagonet, keeping his eyes upon the obviously upset Bors.

Just than, the door to the healing rooms squeaked open, and a disheveled Elaine emerged, sweaty and exhausted. The men stood up quickly as she closed the door behind her, Bors at her side when she turned back around. His mouth open with unsaid words, he froze when he saw the bundle of swaddling she held closely to her, and the soft cooing and breathing of an infant. Elaine gave the man before her a tired smile, pulling the swaddling to reveal a podgy face with tiny sparkling blue eyes.

"Your son, Bors," she said, sliding the babe into the eager arms of its father. Bors looked down into the tiny face, before he clutched him to his stout chest.

Arthur came to Elaine's side, smiling as he pushed a loose strand of her long hair out of her face.

"He has had a rough night, but he's as strong as his father," Elaine said, as Bors gave a tearful smile to the young lady.

"And the mother?"

Elaine's face grew grave, her heart beating fast as she thought of her exhausted and weak friend in the rooms behind her. Desperately searching around the room, her eyes finally rested on the eyes of Tristan, who stood sternly behind Lancelot. Gazing into his deep, mysterious orbs, Tristan seemed to give Elaine a secret look, which gave her the support she needed when he couldn't do so himself. Sighing, she spoke, but did not for a moment tear her eyes away from her source of foundation.

"Vanora lost a lot of blood in the labor and was extremely depleted by the actual birth," she said.

All the men lowered the heads, all except Bors who looked frantically at the healer, tears once again forming in his worried eyes. "But...all the other ones, they were all healthy. She...she gave birth to Number 4 in the fields outside the Wall..."

Elaine looked sadly at Bors, trying to give some form of hope in the grave situation they had found themselves in. "Not all births are healthy. This one came too early. But Vanora is stronger than any woman I've met."

Bors swallowed back tears, nodding towards Elaine who reached forward to take the babe and slipped back into the rooms. The dejected man slipped down on the bench, slumping forward and burying his head in his hands. Arthur stepped forward, placing a firm palm down on his knight's shoulder.

"I can't loose Van."

A bright full moon was high in the late night sky, when Elaine finally emerged once again from the healing rooms, where for nearly nine hours she had labored to bring one soul into the world, and keep another in it. Upon closing the door behind her with a small clack from the latch, the healer was met with the sight of an empty hall, where only one figure sat on a bench, slumped over. A soft, throaty snore drifted from Bors uncomfortable form. Elaine smiled slowly making her way towards her dear friend. The poor man had sat there the entire time, no doubt filled with the greatest fears for the safety of the woman he loved and the child she had just given him.

Placing a small, soothing hand on his hardy back, Elaine gently shook his sleeping form, trying to lull him awake. Bors let out a snot in the midst of a snore, grumbled some unclear words, and looked about him in the attempts of gathering his bearings. Once the realization of where he was and what had happened, Bors's head shot up to look desperately in the face of Elaine. His eyes shone pleadingly in the warm orange glow of the soft torchlight in the hall.

"Van?"

Elaine smiled, "Mother and son are doing just fine now, Bors."

Bors sighed in great relief before standing up, surprising Elaine when he gathered her in a great embrace.

"You've saved my life, do you know that lass?" he whispered against the top of her head.

Elaine giggled and whispered, "Vanora is fine, albeit exhausted. You should be in there with her, so I made up the second bed for you."

She pulled out of the embrace partly, and placed a hand on Bors's cheek. "Get some sleep as well, alright?"

Bors nodded, than bent forward to kiss Elaine on the forehead. She smiled as he pulled away and slipped quietly into the rooms, closing the door gently behind him. Sighing, Elaine slowly began to make her way down the halls towards her chambers. The whole day had been a series of highs and lows, twists and turns, and now that she knew that her friend's life was out of grave danger, Elaine began to reflect upon the good ending to the entire situation. She chuckled to herself when she remembered the sight of the chubby-faced child, which was an almost exact replica of his father. Elaine had almost forgotten the blessed moments during childbirth that came in the midst of the screams and pains. The first sight of the child's eyes, the mother kissing the top of her babe's head, and presenting the proud father with a gift from God. It was one of the reasons she had gone to Isolde in the hopes that she would teach her the ways of the Celtic Healers. So that she could save a life. So that she could bring life.

Thoughts of motherhood drifted into her mind. Oh God, how she prayed to someday feel the blessings of being a mother. To hold the warm babe to her heart, to feel its precious heart beat, and to kiss it's soft skin. As she drifted down the halls, Elaine slipped into a daydream, fantasizing about being a mother herself. She imagined herself sitting in a grassy plain with a dark haired little one, tickling the giggling babe's belly and hugging it to her with such love. She could see the baby crawl away from her to a pair of black boots, and laugh with glee as two slender hands reached under it's arms to lift it up. The baby wrapping it's tiny fingers around a thick braid and pulling gently...

Elaine froze in the middle of the hall, for she realized that she hadn't just been fantasizing about the baby she hoped she would have, but the baby she and Tristan could have. Placing her hand on her lips to help herself from chuckling, Elaine yawned into the hand instead, realizing just how tired she was. So tired, that when she felt what she knew was the hand of the man she loved wrap around her waist to guide her along, she simply sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. As she allowed him to lead her down the chambers hall, Elaine smiled at used she was getting to Tristan's unusual mannerisms when it came to love. He certainly wasn't one for sweet poems, whispers of love and devotion, or any of that other way that Elaine truly found annoying anyways. Tristan was subtle, preferring things unsaid but obviously know through his intense glances and devoted actions. Like snatching her out from darkened corners, kissing her fervently, leaving her little tokens, and teasing her about her silly ways with a soft tone in his words.

A loud chorus of gruff snores broke Elaine away from her thought, and she looked to see they were traveling down the knight's hallway. Tristan huffed, speaking against her head, "Heavy sleepers."

Elaine chuckled, but stopped when she realized that they were standing in front of Tristan's chambers. As he leaned forward to unlatch the door, Elaine pushed all her reservations aside, for she knew that she loved Tristan with all her heart and that he would never do anything to break that heart. He was a man of honor, and while the subject of how far they were ready to take their newfound love for one another had not yet been breached, Elaine knew Tristan wasn't one for rushing her into anything.

As Tristan pushed the door open, Elaine was met with the sight of a dark chamber. She had to wait in the doorway as Tristan slipped into the darkness, disappearing until he lit just a few candles placed about the room, illuminating it with a soft glow. Elaine looked about her as Tristan reached to close the door, and saw a very sparse room in the sense of more conventional chambers. It was composed of two connected rooms, and a washroom with a small basin that served as a tub, with a large bed with posts, a chair by the fireplace, a skin rug, and a table at the far end. But what it lacked in the way of normal rooms, it made up for in the realm of weaponry and trinkets. All of Tristan's daggers, of various sizes and styles, hung upon a stand against the wall, and another held his curved battle sword. His usual battle bow sat up against the same wall, joined by a longbow and a another similar to the first. Spread about the table were arrows and points. Yet, what astonished Elaine the most was the unusual objects that also furnished Tristan. Many items from his scouting missions, polished rocks, shells, and other items joined items that seemed unusual for a Sarmatian knight to own. A gold goblet, a polished and jewlled box also joined his things. Elaine chuckled, remembering Tristan's pension for taking such items quite obviously from various Roman officers and selling them later for weapons and, of course, plenty of apple.

"Are you just going to stand there all night?" Tristan said, bending down to the fireplace to set it ablaze with a warm fire.

Elaine chuckled and made her way over towards the bed, slumping down upon it's edge. "Just taking it all in, Tristan."

The scout huffed, walking over towards her as he began to remove the heavy overcoat he wore. As if out of habit, Elaine reached out and took over the job so that Tristan could remove the leather cuffs on his wrists instead. Such a intimate movement for others, seemed normal for the two who took no notice of their own actions.

"Like what you see?"

Elaine cocked up one eyebrow and chuckled, "Don't be brash."

"Are you alright?"

"Yes."

Tristan nodded, and walked back towards the fireplace, satisfied with her answer. She had worked away for hours on end, and he knew as he had watched he walk down the halls in such a dreamy state that she must be near collapsing. Slipping off his coat as he neared the fireplace where he would hand it off to the side to dry off from the hunting he had just returned back from, he heard a soft chuckle.

"What, no kiss?"

Tristan turned back, huffing and smirking towards the woman sitting on the edge of his bed. "Not until you give me some answers."

Elaine rolled her eyes, "And what would those answers pertain to?"

"How about the fact that Vanora somehow knew that we were together, hmm?"

Elaine groaned, annoying Tristan when she seemingly attempted to brush of the question. "Elaine," he said in a serious tone. "We agree. It is too soon, and too many are involved to know just yet."

"I know. But I had already told Vanora of my feelings for you before the night of the Festival, which she ended up guessing all about anyways."

Tristan froze. Turning back towards the table to set down his leather cuffs, he couldn't help but smirk, for she had felt just as strongly for him as he had for her. "We must be careful, that is all."

"Mmm-hmm."

Tristan turned back around to see that Elaine's head was leaning heavily upon the nearest bed post, her eyes closed. Again. the scout could stop the smirk that managed to slip on his face. Swiftly nearing the bed, Tristan took Elaine in his arms, placing her back towards the head of the bed and covering her with his sheets. She nuzzled the pillows as he bent forward to blow out the candles surrounding the bed. He moved to go sit in the chair facing her, but stopped when he felt her warm hand slipped into his pulling back. As he looked back down into her now opened eyes, the moonlight filtered in through his single window, giving her creamy white face a glow. She stared right back into his face, before pulling the sheets from her side to make room on the bed beside her. Tristan froze, his breathing becoming labored as he stared down into her face. His body ached to move forward and slipped into the bed beside Elaine, but he hesitated for a moment, unsure with such foreign territory. Yet, before his mind took control of the situation, his body was already sliding in beside her, pulling the sheets over her body and now his own. Tristan lay in the bed a little stiff, but when Elaine pressed her body against his and laid her head upon his chest, Tristan's arms pulled her closer, creating a protective barrier over her. Before he knew it, he felt her breathing calm as she slept comfortable in his arms. But for a long while, the scout was wide awake, fearing that the woman in his arms would awaken from the pounding of his heart in his chest.


End file.
